


Tell Me a Lie

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Actor Louis, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst and Humor, Awkward Harry, Awkward Sexual Situations, M/M, Secret Identity, Student Harry, Student Louis, Underage Harry, harry is 14 for like the first chapter but it's not really deserving of an underage archive warning, i'll just tag it here, much less than angsty than usual but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 00:11:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 53,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2448182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is 14 and awkward, Louis is 16 and confused, and it might take them 5 years but they get their act together eventually. Well, aside from the minor, inconvenient part where Harry is lying about who he is.</p><p>OR the University AU where Harry and Louis have both a past and a present together but Harry's the only one aware of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 14 and 16

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank Liz for being the best beta ever and for always being down to talk about fic and/or Louis no matter what else you have going on in your life. Also, the always amazing Vanessa for helping me to brainstorm a huge part of this fic that I was having trouble figuring out (I'd probably still be sitting on your couch staring at my laptop in confusion tbh).

“Nice one, Hazza, totally subtle.” Harry flushes as his annoying best mate cackles hysterically next to him in the hallway of their high school.

“Shut up, Niall!” He whisper-shouts, frantically walking forwards in the desperate hope that maybe if he gets away fast enough Niall will stop drawing attention to him.

It seems all of Harry’s efforts are in vain, though, as Niall snorts, catching up to him quickly. “I have no idea how Louis doesn’t know you’re completely obsessed with him yet. It’s so bloody obvious I’m pretty sure even the teachers know.”

Harry throws a panicked glance over his shoulder, but luckily Louis is no longer looking at him, instead to talking to one of his friends (Liam, Harry thinks his name is) and looking bored.

Harry has been in love with Louis-pronounced-Lewis Tomlinson since he was 12 years old, and he’s pretty sure Louis has no idea who he is. Well, that’s not completely true. He’s friends with Harry’s older sister Gemma, and he comes over to the house on occasion, but outside of the occasional nod of acknowledgment they don’t exactly interact. Sure, Harry has had many the embarrassing day dream about Louis suddenly noticing him and sweeping him off his feet so they can ride off into the sunset together in Louis’ shitty second hand volkswagen, but he’s realistic enough to realize the feeling isn’t mutual.

Harry had been caught blatantly checking out Louis’ rather fantastic arse again, and Niall’s loud cackle of a laugh had drawn Louis’ attention before he’d been able to properly avert his eyes. Louis had actually caught Harry’s panicked gaze for a whole 0.5 seconds, which Harry counted as a win, but he’d also dismissed him just as quickly, turning promptly back to his conversation with Liam.

So Harry had done what any sane person would do - he’d fled. Only Niall is ruining his getaway by chattering loudly about how embarrassing he is, so anyone with a pair of functioning ears can hear him.

“Niall, I swear to god I will tell everyone that you wet the bed at our first sleep over if you don’t shut up!” Harry threatens, and Niall’s mouth shuts comically quickly.

“Point taken,” He assents, but he’s still struggling to hide the smile that keeps threatening to creep onto his face, and Harry has had quite enough.

“Seriously, don’t you think I’m embarrassed enough as it is? He caught me staring at his arse, okay? And I’m pretty sure I was drooling too.” Niall gives him a sympathetic look. “Look, I know i’m taking the piss out of you but it definitely didn’t look as bad as you thought, okay? Other than your mouth hanging open, you could totally have passed for casual.”

“What does that even mean?” Harry leans his forehead against the locker to his right. “Besides, it hardly matters. It’s not like this is going to change anything anyway.”

Niall squeezes his shoulder. “You never know, Haz, just cause he’s never dated a bloke before doesn’t mean he wouldn’t.”

Harry stares at him in disbelief. “He’s like, painfully straight, Ni. He’s been with the same girl for two years, he’s on the football team, Gems has never said anything about him maybe swinging my way. It’s hopeless.”

It’s tough being in unrequited love, even more so when Harry is a 14 year old nerd who’s doomed to be arse over tits for his older sister’s straight friend for the rest of eternity.

Before Niall can tell him off for being pathetic, the bell rings, signaling the start of their next class.

Niall hip checks him. “It’s okay, at least Lewis seems to have forgotten about you already.”

And that, Harry thinks, is the whole problem.

 

***

 

By the time the final bell rings, Harry is more than ready to go home. He waves goodbye to Niall and starts the slow trudge home, lugging his heavy knapsack on his back and trying not to topple forward. He’d thought he’d been adjusting well to secondary school - at least until he got into the second month of term and very quickly realized he was in way over his head.

The school work itself he could handle, it was everything else that came with it. He feels like he’s living in a constant state of anxiety, and his only reprieve is coming home, shedding his metaphorical armor, and collapsing on his bed face first.

Today, though, it seems he’s not alone. After he’s been lying there for a few minutes, he hears the front door bang open as Gemma gets home … only she’s not alone. A second pair of feet follow her over the entryway and into the front fall. Harry strains his ears, disregarding how creepy it is to eavesdrop on his sister and her friend because he legitimately has nothing better to do, when he hears a laugh that makes his skin heat up.

Louis Tomlinson is in his house.

Harry wants to die.

He ignores the part of his brain telling him that he’s acting like a stalker (though the voice does sound suspiciously like Niall) and creeps over to the door, opening it up just enough so he can hear what they’re saying without being seen himself.

“...yeah I figured long as one of us was paying attention it wouldn’t be too awful.” Louis says before Gemma cuts him off with a snort.

“So it’s just a coincidence, then, that I’m always the one taking notes and you’re always the one who has to borrow them before an exam?” Gemma’s voice is scolding, but in that teasing way she’d picked up from their mum, and Harry can just picture Louis’ cheeks flushing in embarrassment. He’s a good sport about it though.

“No, you’re right, I’m shit.” They both laugh before Louis adopts a more serious tone. “Seriously though, thanks Gems. It means a lot that you still want to help me no matter how many times I fuck up.”

There’s the sound of clothing rustling as Gemma pulls Louis into a hug. “It’s okay, Tommo, I know how difficult it is for you at home right now. I really don’t mind.” Gemma’s voice is so warm and caring and Harry wants to melt. There are very few people capable of bringing out that side of her, and Harry knows Louis should consider himself lucky.

“Alright then, I’d best be off.” He hears footsteps reatreating towards the front door, pausing just a bit too early. “Gems, you might want to see if your brother’s okay.”

Harry’s head nearly pops off his neck, his entire body freezing in place. Did Louis just … had Louis Tomlinson just brought him up in a conversation entirely unprompted? And in what sounded eerily like concern?

This is it, Harry is actually going to die. He hopes Niall will take good care of his video games.

“Wha - Harry?” Gemma asks, her bafflement the perfect mirror to the chaos swirling inside his own head. Louis coughs nervously, as if regretting bringing him up to begin with.

“Yeah, I saw him in the hallway earlier with his friend, that blonde lad, and he seemed … I dunno, a bit weird I guess?” There’s a moment of silence in which Harry knows Gemma’s giving Louis a look. “Alright, a bit weirder than usual, then. He just seemed a bit off. This is none of my business, I don’t even know why I brought it up.” Harry can hear Louis’ embarrassment in his voice and he is so completely endeared. Louis cares. Louis cares. Holy shit, Louis cares.

Before Harry can drive himself into a full-fledged panic attack, Gemma laughs. “I think it’s sweet you’re worried about him.”

Louis huffs. “I’m not worried, I just remember what it’s like to be one of the first years, you know? It sucks when you don’t really have a lot of friends yet or feel like you fit in. I’m just paying it forward or whatever it is Kevin Spacey wants me to do.”

Gemma giggles and calls out, “Whatever you say, Lou!” before firmly closing and locking the door behind him.

Harry uses the excuse of Gemma’s rather conveniently loud exclamation of his name to emerge from his room.

“You say something Gems?” She turns around, a startled look on her face. “Oh, you’re home!” Harry gives her a look. “Just like I always am. Didn’t you call me?” If he didn’t know her so well and if he wasn’t related to her, he doubts he would have noticed the subtle blush creeping up her cheeks.

“No, I was just talking to a friend.”

“About me?” Harry does his best to phish without being too obvious about it, and for once he thinks it’s working.

“No, I mean, yeah, technically I guess, but not really.”

Harry stares at her. “What does that even mean?”

Gemma shrugs. “My friend was just asking how you were getting on in school, it being your first year in secondary and all.”

Harry widens his eyes, trying to look as innocent as possible. “Which friend? Samantha?”

Gemma frowns. “No, I don’t think you’ve actually spoken to him yet. Louis Tomlinson? He plays football on the school team, friends with Liam Payne, dating that clique-y girl Hannah Walker for like, ages?”

Harry pretends to mull it over before nodding slowly. “Yeah, I think I’ve seen him around. He asked about me?”

Gemma makes a face and shrugs. “I don’t know how he even knew you were my brother, but yeah.” She shudders in mock horror. “Maybe mum’s right - maybe we do look freakishly alike after all.” Harry grins, his dimples out in full force. Gemma sighs. “You’re lucky you’re cute. I’d have to go get my whole face reconstructed otherwise.”

Harry pouts. “Just be glad neither of us look like Aunt Mildred.”

Gemma’s expression truly does become one of horror at that. “Oh God, you’re right. Forget everything I said. I take it all back!”

“And you say I’m the weird one,” Harry teases, momentarily forgetting he isn’t supposed to have overheard that bit of the conversation.

Gemma gives him a weird look but leaves it alone, grabbing her school bag and trudging off to the den. “Up to watching some mindless telly until dinner?”

Harry grabs a blanket and trails after her, his mind still playing Louis’ words on repeat.

 

***

 

By the time their mum gets home from work, Gemma and Harry have progressed to blaring old 90s music as Harry paints Gemma’s nails for her.

Anne steps into the den with a box of pizza tucked under her arm and a resigned smile.

“I see you two have had a productive afternoon,” She teases, placing the box on the coffee table and opening it up to reveal a half pepperoni/half-vegetarian pizza.

Harry hastily finishes Gemma’s pinkie before capping the bottle and dashing up to grab napkins and three slices. Gemma stares at her hands, then at the pizza, and then back at her hands with a pout. “Should’ve waited until after dinner.” Anne takes pity on her and picks up one of the pepperoni slices, holding out so Gemma can take a bite as Harry laughs at them both.

“We haven’t had pizza in ages, mum! Not that i’m complaining.” Anne gives Gemma another bite before grabbing her own slice and leaning back against the couch. “I got some news today at work and didn’t feel like cooking.”

Harry and Gemma exchange a concerned glance. “What kind of news?” Gemma asks, and Harry can hear the worry in her voice.

“Not bad news, just ... “ Anne pauses, as though uncertain of how to go on. “I got a promotion.”

Harry and Gemma grin at each other, Harry trying not choke on his pizza as he bounces up and down.

“In Cheshire,” Anne continues, and Harry abruptly stops celebrating.

“What?”

Anne bites her lip. “They offered me another position with much better benefits and a significantly increased salary, but we’d have to move to Cheshire.”

“That’s two hours away!” Gemma exclaims, the pizza all but forgotten now.

“I know. That’s why I wanted to talk to you both about it before making a decision. I know it’s a lot to take in.”

That’s the understatement of the year, in Harry’s opinion. He’s lived here all his life, still has the same neighbours as he’s always had. Every important milestone has happened in this house. Same for Gemma.

But by the same token, the thought of getting to restart somewhere new holds a lot of appeal to him. As it is now, he doesn’t particularly enjoy his new school, doesn’t really have any friends other than Niall, and tends to just blend into the background. He isn’t involved in any clubs or activities and is pretty sure most people at school have no idea who he is. There’s nothing tying him here except for a rowdy blonde irishman and his crush on a straight boy.

So, yes, he actually isn’t that opposed to moving. The more he thinks about it, the more it excites him, actually; a new house, new school, more money so he can maybe (hopefully) get a car when he turns 16. And Cheshire is right next to Manchester - he can actually go into the city more than once or twice a year.

He turns to see Gemma biting her lip and frowning and feels his own enthusiasm deflate a bit. Gemma is genuinely happy here, has loads of friends, does well in school and only has one more year before she graduates. This is the worst possible time for her to move. Harry decides then and there to go with whatever Gemma wants. It doesn’t really make all that much of a difference to him.

“I agree with whatever Gemma decides,” Harry says firmly, feeling his cheeks warm up at the grateful look his sister sends him. Anne nods like she’d been expecting him to say that.

“I don’t know, there are so many things to consider. Can I have some time to think about it?” Gemma pleads.

“My boss gave me until Monday morning to decide, that’s three full days. We need to come to a mutually agreed upon decision by Sunday.” Despite the serious tone of her voice, Anne gives her children a soft smile and pulls them into a tangled group hug on the carpet.

“What do you want, mum?” Harry asks, and Anne frowns. “The new job sounds amazing, to be honest. It’s exactly what I dreamed of doing when I was still in school. I just hate the thought of uprooting you both so suddenly in the middle of the school year.”

Gemma looks guilty and Harry can tell she’s reconsidering whatever mental decision she’d been leaning towards. He doesn’t envy being in her position.

“It’s okay, we’ll figure it out,” Harry assures them both, giggling when Gemma and Anne both tag team him in a cuddle.

 

***

 

Harry has trouble falling asleep that night, and it shows in his mood the next morning. He’s tired and quieter than usual during first period, earning him a concerned look from Niall who keeps yammering away about something or other until he realizes he’s not going to get a response.

When Harry goes to sit at their usual corner table in the cafeteria for lunch, Niall grabs him by the elbow and drags him towards the door.

“Where are we going?” Harry asks in confusion. Niall snorts. “That’s the most you’ve said all day so far, mate. We’re eating lunch outside today. Figure a change of scenery will breathe some life back into ya.”

Knowing he’s probably right, Harry doesn’t fight it, lethargically climbing up the bleachers next to the football field and closing his eyes as the late October sun warms the skin not covered by his jumper.

He’s abruptly knocked out of his temporary moment of peace when a football comes flying at his chest. He falls sideways, just managing to grab onto the wood so he doesn’t topple over backwards as he hears Niall gasp next to him and someone apologizing profusely a few feet away.

He looks up and wants the ground to swallow him whole. None other than Louis Tomlinson is standing on the field, glaring at his friend (who Harry recognizes to be Liam, also on the footie team) before turning his attention back to Harry.

“Mate, I am so sorry. Liam here is a terrible shot. There’s a reason we keep him on defense.” Harry can only imagine what an unflattering shade of red his cheeks must be at that moment and manages an awkward half-nod.

“It’s okay.”

Louis gives him a tiny smile. “It’s really not, but I appreciate you being so cool about it.” Before Harry has the time to blush even further about Louis using his name and the word ‘cool’ in the same sentence, Louis turns to Liam and elbows him sharply in the side. “Apologize. Now.”

Liam glowers at him but dutifully turns to address Harry. “I’m sorry I hit you, but you seem to be fine so we’re good, yeah?” Liam barely waits for Harry to give him a shaky nod before turning and walking back towards a group of people gathered under a tree eating lunch on the opposite side of the field.

Louis gives Harry an apologetic smile. “He’s not normally that rude. You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, not the first time I’ve been hit with a football. Least he didn’t get me in the face.” Louis laughs brightly, and Harry wants to cry. Everything about this boy - every single thing - is perfect. He has it so, so bad.

“I can always respect a man who sees the bright side to getting hit in the chest with a footie.” Louis quips, and now it’s Harry’s turn to laugh.

Louis raises a hand and gives him a quick parting wave before joining Liam and the rest of their friends under the tree. Niall starts humming suggestively under his breath but Harry ignores him in favour of watching Louis as he plops down next to a blonde girl he assumes is his girlfriend Hannah, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek and wrapping his arm around her.

Harry tries to keep the frown off of his face, but of course Niall sees it. “Doesn’t mean he’s straight, Haz.”

Harry sighs. “Doesn’t mean he’s not, either. Also it doesn’t really matter what he is, he’s still in a relationship with someone who’s not me.” He knows he sounds petty, but for once he doesn’t care to try and hide it.  He’s sad. He wants to wallow.

Niall seems to get that because he doesn’t say anything else, just pulls Harry towards him and lets him rest his head on his shoulder. “Least you picked a nice one to fall hopelessly in love with. Imagine if it’d been Liam.”

 

***

 

Harry wakes up to the sound of a soft tapping on his door. He glances at the clock, blinking the sleep out of his eyes and cringes when he realizes it’s 4 in the morning. He grumbles, contemplating pretending to still be asleep, but ultimately decides that it must be important.

He swings his legs over the bed and makes his way zombie-like to the door, opening it to reveal Gemma. She gives him a meek smile as he gestures for her to come in, closing the door behind her.

“You do know what time it is right?”

Gemma purses her lips. “Yeah. But I needed to talk to you, and I was gonna wait until morning but then I couldn’t sleep.” She sits up. “I can leave if you’d like, I’m sorry for waking you.”

Harry rolls his eyes, collapsing backwards on his bed. “No point, I’m awake now.” He yawns as Gemma lies back next to him, staring at the ceiling.

“So what did you want to talk about?”

Gemma rolls on her side and looks at him seriously. “Moving. I think I’ve come to a decision, but I just wanted to … I don’t know, talk it out a bit first before I tell mum and it becomes final.”

“You want to stay, don’t you?”

Gemma sighs. “Yeah. But only because it’s best for me in the short term. I don’t think it’s fair to base a decision that will probably affect the rest of our lives on something as stupid as getting to graduate from sixth form with my friends.”

“It’s not stupid.”

“It kind of is, though. Like, if we move, I’ll miss my friends and the life I’ve built for myself here, but it also means that mum passes up on a job she loves.” She picks at a loose thread on her sleeve. “Also, I realized that if we move mum will make enough so I can afford to go to school in London and live there rather than going somewhere local and living at home.”

She looks at Harry with eyes like saucers. “I’ve wanted to go to Uni in London since I was a kid, Haz, but I never thought it’d be a possibility. At best I thought maybe I could afford Manchester.” She laughs. “Though now that I think about it, if we live in Cheshire I could commute into Manchester every day. So even my back up plan still works dependent on us moving.”

Harry lets her keep talking because he realizes she’s basically already made her decision, she just needs someone else to help her accept it.

“What do you want, H? This decision concerns you too but it’s only my opinion that seems to be influencing mum.”

Harry shrugs. “If we move, I’d miss Niall and like … other people,” he pointedly does not think about Louis’ blue blue eyes or his soft hair or his kind smile, “But there’s nothing really tying me here. To be honest, the thought of a fresh start in a place close to Manchester and a money situation that’s less tight is really appealing.”

Gemma’s expression softens a bit at Harry’s words, and the tension drains from her posture. “Okay then. Decision made.”

Harry looks at her in alarm. “Please tell me you didn’t agree to it just because it’s what I want!”

Gemma pokes him in the cheek. “Of course not, silly. I just weighed the pros and cons for all of us, mum included, and realized it makes the most sense for the three of us individually. Cheshire’s not that far away, and with the money mum will be making we can probably afford a shitty second car so I can come visit often. And a lot of my friends are hoping to go to uni in London too, so it’s not like I’ll never see them again. It’s like a gap year. Only not.”

Harry grins. “Eloquent as always.”

Gemma smacks his arm. “Shut up. I’m brilliant.” Harry rolls his eyes and promptly goes back to bed, assuming she’ll let herself out. He falls asleep with a smile on his face.

 

***

 

It’s two weeks until they’re set to move, and Harry’s barely started packing. He’s pretty organized as it is, so he assumes it won’t take him very long to get everything boxed up. He realizes just how misguided he was when it takes four hours to clear just one corner of his room.

His phone buzzing across the room snaps him out of the stare down he’s in the middle of having with his bookshelf. He didn’t even realize how many books he had until he was forced to try and pack them.

Harry shakes his head and decides to give himself a fifteen minute break before getting back to it. He sees that he has a new text from Niall, and he unlocks his phone curiously. Niall had taken the news that Harry is moving rather well, especially when Harry had invited him over to the Cheshire house as often as he wants. Niall had always had more friends that Harry, something about the whole being Irish and outgoing thing, so Harry isn’t too concerned about abandoning him.

The text simply says. “Check facebook now.” Harry barely uses facebook, so he has no idea what could possibly be important enough for Niall to text him about it, but his curiosity gets the better of him. His facebook feed is full of random updates from people he doesn’t actually remember ever meeting, and he scrolls a bit, trying to see what would have caught Niall’s attention.

He sees a bunch of sad and crying faced emoticons in response to one post and squints at it, gasping when he sees what it says.

_Louis Tomlinson is single._

Harry knows it’s in poor taste to celebrate someone else’s break up, but fuck it, he’s moving in two weeks and the boy he’s had a crush on since he was 12 is single for the first time in as long as he’s known him.

Harry’s creeped Louis’ facebook profile before, of course he has, but it’s always been when he was sad or yearning or some other melancholic wuthering heights-esque emotion. Now, for the first time, he’s clicking through Louis’ pictures knowing that 1) he’s single and 2) he knows who Harry he is. Sure Harry may never see him again after two weeks, but he’s sure as hell going to revel in the potential of it all while he still can.

He’s about 10 pictures deep in Louis’ album when he gets to the shirtless pictures. Louis and his friends seem to have gone on vacation somewhere in France before the school year started, and Harry can feel his lust coiling like a snake in the pit of his stomach. A horny snake.

Louis is tanned and toned and golden and gorgeous and Harry wants to lick him. He’s never wanted to lick another person before, but he figures there’s a first time for everything as he scans his eyes up and down Louis’ body like the 14 year old creep he is. The shame he’d normally feel is gone, vanquished by the happiness still thrumming in his veins. Other than a few couple-y pictures with Hannah, Harry’s attention is utterly rapt as Louis gets progressively drunker and drunker, his inhibitions lowered to the point where one of the pictures is literally just his legs and bare ass peeking over the top of his boxers.

Harry thinks that Louis’ arse is like the Helen of Troy of bottoms; any respectable man or woman would go to war over it. It’s like it was handcrafted by Aphrodite herself.

Harry feels his hand creep lower and lower until it’s snuck its way into his boxers. He stares at the picture, knowing that this is the final line. Everything he’d done and thought up until now has been mildly creepy but acceptable by teenage boy with a crush standards. But wanking off to a picture of Louis’ bum … there is a deep level of desperation involved in that that Harry isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to come back from.

Harry shoots a quick glance out the window to be sure his mum’s car is still gone. Gemma’s still at school, he knows that for a fact, and the front door is locked. His hand starts moving on his dick before he even has a chance to question it. He decides to do the moral thing and switch back to a slightly more neutral picture of Louis, tanned and golden on the deck of a yacht.

There, at least he’s not completely objectifying him anymore.

That’s the last coherent thought Harry has as he quickens his pace, groaning as his hand slides up and down frantically. He can hear himself saying something under his breath but he’s too far gone to know what it is. He rarely lets himself go like this (it’s hard when he’s living with two women) but for once he lets himself feel everything. He’s about to hurtle over the edge of his orgasm, letting out a particular loud cry of ‘Louis!’ when his door slams open to reveal none other than the boy himself standing on the threshold with a look of confusion and then very quickly something akin to stunned horror on his face.

The shock of Louis appearing in his room as though summoned by Harry’s thoughts alone sends him into his orgasm, shooting streaks of white over his chest and dribbling down his right hand.

He finally comes down from his high and realizes that Louis is still standing in his doorway and just saw him come. Louis just saw him come.

Fuck.

Fuck.

_Fuck._

Louis seems to snap out of it a second after Harry does, bolting from his spot by the door and hurtling down the stairs. Harry slams his laptop shut, praying Louis didn’t see the pictures of himself on screen (not that it matters, a voice in the back of his head reminds him, he heard Harry crying his name as he came after all) and wiping himself down in a panic before zipping his jeans back up and finding a clean shirt to wear.

He tiptoes to the edge of the stairs, not daring to actually face Louis. He just wants to know what he’s saying to Gemma and whether or not he can ever show his face in public ever again.

Gemma’s in the middle of asking him a question when Harry finally tunes into their conversation. “What do you mean ' _I forgot I had to babysit'_? Lou, we literally get to hang out once every few weeks. We’ve been planning this movie night for weeks!”

Louis’ voice is remarkably composed considering he just saw his friend’s little brother jerking himself off to the thought of him. Though maybe Louis’ just better at hiding things than Harry is; Harry’s always been a terrible actor.

“My mum called when I was upstairs to ask where I was. I thought it was tomorrow night, Gems, I really did. I’m so sorry.”

Gemma sighs in exasperation. “I’m moving away in two weeks, Louis. Two weeks! I have no idea when I’ll get to see you again, let alone have a movie night.”

Louis breathes out heavily, and he really does sound torn about it. But Harry assumes there’s no guilt trip Gemma can pull that will cancel out seeing his erect penis.

“Why don’t you come over to mine?” he suggests, a lightness in his tone that suggests he’s only just thought of it. “Yeah, you can help me babysit the girls and we can still do movie night.”

Gemma thinks it over silently for a moment before agreeing. “Yeah I can do that. Just let me call mum,” She runs to grab the phone, and only Harry hears Louis mutter, “Yeah better call mine too and explain why she suddenly doesn’t need a babysitter after all.”

Harry listens to Louis hastily make excuses on the phone with him mum, hanging up a second before Gemma comes back in the room.

“All good?” Harry hears him ask. Gemma must nod in the affirmative, because he hears Louis clap his hands together. “I’ll wait for you in the car, yeah?”

“Yeah, just gotta let Harry know I’ll be gone.” Harry can practically feel Louis’ heart rate increasing from here. He hears Gemma’s footsteps bounding up the stairs towards him and he quickly throws himself back in his room and onto his bed, hastily shoving a pair of headphones on so he looks busy.

Gemma knocks on his door frame a moment later, a smile on her face. Harry pulls the earphones back down, doing his best to look busy.

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to Lou’s for movie night. Mum left money for take out if you want, or there’s pasta and stuff in the cupboard.”

Harry nods calmly as though his heart isn’t beating out of his chest.

“Yeah, I might invite Niall over actually.” he decides, because fuck does he ever need to tell someone what happened.

“Okay, just clean up after yourselves. You know what Niall’s like when left alone in the kitchen.” Gemma rolls her eyes and Harry laughs as convincingly as he can with his mind still racing. For maybe the first time since he’s found out he was moving, Harry is genuinely thrilled. He’d never be able to face Louis again. He’s royally fucked everything up.

Gemma gives him a tiny wave before bouncing back down the stairs and slamming the front door shut behind her. Harry drops whatever flimsy form of pretense he was holding onto before, sinking face first into his comforter and groaning.

It’s official. Harry’s penis has ruined his life.

 

***

 

Niall laughs at him, predictably, but he also helps him to give him a much needed reality check. They’re lying on the floor in Harry’s room, and while he hadn’t given away too many of the specifics, he knows that Niall has the general gist of what happened.

“So he walked in on you wanking, is what you’re saying.”

Harry picks up a pillow up off the edge of the bed and tries to smother himself with it.

“Harry, it’s not that bad. Blokes wank, you know? He’s a hypocrite if he judges you for it. Besides, why did he think it’d be okay to just stroll into your room like that?”

“Becauseheheardmeshouthisname,” Harry mumbles into the pillow.

“What?” Niall pulls the pillow off of Harry’s face, eyes serious for once.

Harry sighs. “Because he heard me shouting his name.”

It takes a grand total of three seconds for Niall’s eyes to widen in horror before he’s absolutely cackling. Harry wants the floor to open up and swallow him whole.

“You … were wanking … to the thought … of Louis _bloody_ Tomlinson,” Niall pauses here to breathe, laughter barely restrained, “ and he heard you. Fuck!”

Harry slams his face against the floor, glad that his room is still carpeted. He kind of loathes himself right now, but not enough to risk breaking his nose on hardwood flooring.

Niall takes a deep calming breath and puts a hand on Harry’s back. “Well, look at the bright side. Least he knows how you feel now.”

Harry contemplates suffocating Niall with the pillow and wonders if Maura and Bobby will actually miss him. “Niall, this is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me. This is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to anyone I know. You should have seen the look on his face! I think I broke him.”

Harry pouts and buries his face in his arms. Niall runs his hand consolingly through his curls.

“Well then I guess it’s a good thing you’re moving away in two weeks. At least you’ll get a relatively clean break. Just, I don’t know, avoid him until then. You said he didn’t tell Gemma, right? He’s probably embarrassed too. Chances are this will stay a dirty little secret between you two.”

Harry groans. He knows Niall’s right, it just sucks. He’s got emotional whiplash after all the Louis-related feelings he’s cycled through in the past 24 hours.

“I just like him so much! Why did this have to happen to me, Niall? Now I can never look at him at him again, let alone speak to him.”

Niall shrugs. “Think of it this way - it’ll make a great story in five years.”

Harry rolls his eyes at him. “Not helping. I need a cuddle, do you think you can do that?”

Niall shakes his head fondly but pulls his best mate into his arms regardless. “Yeah come here you great doofus. It’ll all be okay, this is just a temporary speedbump on the highway to happiness.”

“Did you swallow a book of cliches before coming over?” Harry mumbles, feeling a little bit better despite himself.

“Nah, I just feel like things like this always have a way of working themselves out eventually.”

And maybe Niall’s right. Maybe someday Harry will be sitting around with his friends laughing at what an idiot he used to be. But that doesn’t matter right now. Harry feels embarrassed, sure, and anxious about what the hell he’s going to do about seeing Louis at school, but mostly he just feels … sad.

 

***

 

It turns out Harry hadn’t needed to worry much; it seems Louis is just as intent on ignoring him as Harry is. They manage to make it through the first week without a single awkward moment, and Harry’s proud because he only had to hide in one empty classroom as Louis was about to walk by to keep it that way.

Louis never drops by the house anymore, either, and Harry can tell Gemma is confused but not particularly concerned. When she asks him for his opinion on Louis’ behaviour, Harry makes up some excuse about Louis not wanting to get in the way of them packing that Gemma seems to accept.

Things come to a head two days before Harry leaves for Cheshire. It’s his last day at school, and Harry has decided to skip third period because 1) they’re dissecting frogs in class, and he isn’t sure he has the stomach for it and 2) he’s always wanted to skip class and this seems like the lowest risk way considering he’s moving and all.

It turns out the universe seems to enjoy making Harry suffer through humiliating moments over and over again, because Harry’s just finished weeing and is about to wash his hands when the door pushes open and Louis walks in.

They both look up and freeze at the same time, matching expressions of ‘oh fuck’ on their faces. Harry quickly rubs the soap into his hands and rinses it off, not caring how shitty a job he’s doing. He’s rather glad he’s already done the peeing bit, though; having his dick out for a second time during an awkward encounter with Louis would probably be enough to kill him on the spot.

Harry grabs some paper towels and barrels towards the door with them, intending to throw them out from the safety of another bathroom. Louis still hasn’t moved when he gets to the door, and Harry’s basically on the verge of awkward humiliated tears.

Louis steps to the side, finally startled into motion. Harry pushes past Louis, wanting nothing more than to flee as quickly as he can when he feels a small hand on his elbow.

He stumbles, turning back around in a panic. Louis’ mouth is just opening and closing awkwardly and Harry can’t stand to be there even a second longer. He takes off down the hall, hearing Louis snapping out of his daze and calling after him, but Harry’s pride won’t let him.

It’s not until he buckles his seatbelt in the moving van the next day that he realizes he’ll probably never see Louis Tomlinson again.

And no matter how much the memory of what happened still stings, there’s still a part of him that hopes he’s wrong.

 


	2. 19 and 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we jump ahead 5 years...

Harry swears he’s never been more exhausted in his entire life. He’s just spent the past three hours lugging all of his shit into the dorm room he’s sharing with Niall and he honestly just wants to collapse and take a nap in the middle of the hallway.

He’s nearly about to give into the impulse when he hears a throat clearing behind him and turns to see Gemma giving him a look.

“Haz,” she starts, but he quickly pulls it together.

“I know. No napping until you and mum have already left.”

Gemma laughs. “I don’t care about that, I just want you to wait until all of your stuff has been moved. I love you, but I sure as hell am _not_ moving you into your own dorm room as you go for a quick snooze.”

Harry shrugs non-committally but picks up the box he’d put down and drags it over to his room. NIall’s stuff is already set up, his parents long gone. They’d been pragmatic (Niall’s word, not his) and headed down to London a few days early before the mad rush of new students moving in all at once. Harry had laughed at him but was he ever paying for it now. Niall actually was dozing in his room, no obligations until Monday - the first day of classes.

It takes another forty minutes or so before both Anne and Gemma are completely satisfied with how Harry’s dorm room looks. They both leave him with a teary-eyed hug and a kiss, though it’s less emotional than it would have been had Harry not basically been living on his own in Manchester for the past year. He’d taken a gap year after his final year of sixth form, unsure of what exactly his post-secondary plans would be, and after working full-time at a coffee shop and trudging purposeless around the Northern City, he’d decided to go after the one thing that had always fascinated and intimidated him in equal parts - law.

After making his decision, the rest fell into place relatively easily. Harry knew he wanted to get out of Manchester. Not that he didn’t love the city, but he needed something new, something different. Something that was completely his own. He’d decided on London.

For all his sister’s words about wanting to go to Uni in London, she’d actually ended up studying abroad - in Belgium of all places. She’d loved her time at school, loved experiencing a different culture and attempting to learn a new language, but Harry knew without a shadow of a doubt that London was it for him.

So here he is, 19 years old and moving into a dorm room with his best friend, both starting their first year of university. Harry is terrified. But more than that, he’s finally ready.

After Gemma and his mum head off to meet Harry’s new step-father for a late lunch somewhere near the art gallery his sister had desperately wanted to visit, Harry decides he’s going to indulge in that nap after all. His plans are promptly ruined when he hears a heavy knock at the door just as he’s settling into his freshly-made bed.

Harry walks over to the door, confused as he opens it to reveal a short-ish ginger guy with tattoos completely covering both arms.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a screwdriver, would you?” He begins without pre-amble, and Harry laughs.

“Robertson or Flathead?”

The ginger bloke grins. “Both. Ikea furniture is far more complicated to assemble than the diagram makes it look.”

Harry grabs the mini-toolkit his sister had gotten him for his birthday a few years ago and follows the guy down the hall.

“You’re a godsend, mate. Honestly thought I’d have to sleep on the floor tonight.”

Harry grins. “You’re just lucky I’m freakishly over-prepared for everything. I have an emergency flare tucked away in my boxes somewhere.”

Ed laughs, then laughs even harder when he sees that Harry’s not kidding.

“I’m Ed by the way, I probably should have said that earlier.” Harry takes his outstretched hand.

“Harry.”

“Well then, Harry. I really appreciate the help. I think I know the perfect way to repay the favour.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “You’ll build the rest of my furniture?”

Ed rolls his eyes. “Nah, this is better. There’s a party at my mate’s house tomorrow night. He’s a second-year music student, went to secondary with him. None of the freshers know about it, but he lets me invite whoever I want. It’s a great way to meet people without having to suffer through the dorm bonding activities set up by the school.”

Harry furrows his eyebrows, thinking about it. He’s never really been to any parties, not cool ones any way. He’d made a pact with himself that this year would be different though, and as cliche as it sounds, going to a party he’d have never been invited to in secondary school seems like the perfect way to do that.

“Did I mention there’d be free beer?” Ed asks, and that pretty much makes Harry’s decision for him.

“Can I bring my mate?”

Ed laughs. “Course,” He pulls out his mobile and passes it over. “Gimme your number and I’ll text you the details later.”

Harry smiles. “Cool. Now how about we attempt to put your bed together.”

 

***

 

By the time Niall wakes up, Harry and Ed have assembled and made his bed, and are back in the lounge area of Harry’s room, arguing about music.

Niall shuffles out of his room, his hair a fluffy bleach blond mess and his shirt rumpled from sleep. Being Niall, he doesn’t even blink at the fact that Harry’s made a new friend while he was sleeping and merely gives him a tiny wave as he walks over to the kitchen to grab a coke.

“Ed, this is my best mate Niall. Niall, Ed.”

Niall collapses on the chair across from the two of them, nodding at Ed with a tired smile. Harry bites back a grin, amused by how long it always takes the normally perpetually sunny Niall to wake up and return to his normal human form after a nap.

Ed’s phone beeps and he stands up slowly. “Shit, I forgot I was supposed to meet my friend in fifteen.”

He stretches and heads over to the door, pausing. “I’ll see you both tomorrow, yeah?”

Harry shoots him a thumbs up on behalf of him and Niall, who appears to have fallen asleep again. Ed grins, waving as he leaves.

“Ed’s invited us to a party tomorrow.” Harry says, and Niall’s eyes shoot open.

“Right, yeah, party.”

Harry laughs. “I was gonna head over to Starbucks to grab a coffee, you want something?”

Niall’s eyes widen gratefully as he gets up and throws himself sideways on the couch next to him. “Harry, mate, that’s the most important thing you’ve said all day. I can’t find the bloody coffee maker and I think me mum forgot it in the car.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Venti black coffee it is.”

Niall smiles and promptly rolls over again, burying his face in the couch cushions.

 

***

 

The Starbucks looks exactly the same as every Starbucks ever, but there’s something different in the atmosphere. Harry doesn’t know if it’s because it’s mostly students (both working behind the counter and studying in the chairs) but it’s nice. For the first time since moving into his dorm that morning it hits him that he’s really doing this. He’s really in London studying Law. The thought doesn’t scare him as much as it did before.

The line is practically non-existent, just one girl chatting with the barista behind the counter who’s obviously a friend. They seem to be in the middle of a rather energetic conversation, and Harry has no choice but to eavesdrop.

“I swear, he’s going to be there. Melissa wouldn’t lie.” The girl in line is saying as the barista laughs at her.

“You do know he’s like, _super gay_ , right?”

Harry can practically feel the girl in front of him rolling her eyes. “Just because he’s a drama major doesn’t mean you can say that.”

The barista gives her friend a pitying look. “Unless you’ve got a secret dick stashed somewhere I don’t know about, he’s not interested. Besides,” the girl continues. “I’m pretty sure he has a boyfriend.”

The girl at the counter leans in closer, her whole posture tense “Who?”

The barista gives her a significant look. “Zayn Malik.”

The other girl actually moans out loud. Harry feels his own cheeks heat up in vicarious embarrassment.

“Seriously? Fuck. Well, in that case, I don’t think I would get in the way even if I could. Two people that hot should _not_ be allowed to date.”

Harry can’t help the insane curiosity building in him that he’s almost forgotten that he’s technically in line and that this is terrible customer service. He’s about to open his mouth to ask who they’re talking about when the barista comes to her sense, gesturing for her friend to move out of the way and for Harry to step forward.

“What can I get you?” she asks, eyes dull, and Harry thinks she should really be kinder after making him wait for so long.

“Um, yeah, I’ll get a grande vanilla latte and a venti - ”

The barista’s eyes snap to something behind his head as the door opens. Harry turns his head to see probably most the beautiful human being in the history of humanity walk through the door. His dark hair is artfully swept to the side and he’s wearing tight jeans, a button down, and a leather jacket. Harry can’t really blame the barista for being distracted this time. He’s pretty sure this guy is the textbook example of aesthetic perfection.

When he finally drags his eyes away from the incredibly gorgeous to guy to finish his order, he sees the girl from earlier whispering, “Speak of the devil,” under her breath to the barista.

But wait, this can’t be … well, it would make sense if this guy was the aforementioned incredibly hot drama major.

Harry places his order as quickly as he can, shifting over to the drinks bay to wait for his latte. He subtly watches the hot guy out of the corner of his eye as he orders, trying to find out something.

His wish comes true when the barista asks for his name for the cup and he mumbles _Zayn_ in an incredibly northern accent.

Jesus, no wonder the barista looked like she was about to collapse completing his order.  Harry nearly faints himself when Zayn comes to stand next to him at the coffee bar, waiting for his own drink. He smells like cologne and traces of weed, and Harry wants so badly to just stare at him. His years of being the weird kid at school have taught him that’s probably not the best idea.

The barista slams Harry’s drinks on the counter, barely sparing him a second look as she turns to smile at Zayn, who, much to her disappointment, isn’t actually paying attention. His attention is glued to his phone, and he frowns as he gets a new call from whoever he’d been texting a moment earlier.

“Hey Lou. What’s up?”

Harry idles by the sugar and cream station, pathetically trying to gain even more information. He dumps far more cinnamon in his latte than he’d normally like, but oh well. Learning about hot boys is far important than hot beverages.

Zayn’s drinks come a moment later and he picks up the coffee, his phone still pressed to his ear as he walks over to the same station as Harry, struggling to open the lid with only one hand. Harry wants to help him, but … yeah, that’s still creepy. Sometimes he still feels a lot like his 14 year old self, but he supposes there’s not much he can do to change that.

“No, it’s at Miller’s, remember? Yeah, 10:30.” Zayn pauses, listening to whatever this Lou person is saying when something rings familiar about what Zayn had said. Miller’s, wasn’t that what Ed had said his friend’s name was?

Zayn carries on his phone call, oblivious to Harry’s rapidly changing facial expressions.

“Cool bro. Yeah, I’ll bring it. Just make sure to put some effort in, yeah? Don’t let this be a repeat of last year.”

He hears laughter on the other end of the phone, high-pitched but undeniably male, and Harry wonders … Could this be the hot drama student boyfriend? Harry would normally scold himself for being so overly invested in the lives of people he doesn’t even know, but he’s never been in a school before where gossip about two guys being together was seen as a good thing. Harry can’t deny that he’s intrigued, and more than a bit jealous.

Finally satisfied with his coffee, Zayn nods in goodbye to the barista (missing the way her face flushes red) and heads outside, his phone still pressed to his ear.

Harry remembers that Niall’s pathetically waiting for his coffee back at the flat and quickly slams them into a carrying tray, dashing out the door and trying his best not to spill.

Uni suddenly seems a lot more like interesting than he’d thought it would.

 

***

 

Niall convinces him to wear a button-down shirt only half-way buttoned. Harry’s not normally opposed to wearing as little as possible, but this is his first actual uni party and he’s afraid of looking stupid. Niall assures him that showing off his tattoos will most certainly have the opposite effect, something that Harry’s past (limited) experiences with men in clubs has proven true. Harry pairs the shirt with his standard black skinny jeans and chelsea boots, opting to leave his hair down and curly.

Niall whistles at him from the lounge when he walks out of the bathroom.

“Mate, you look like sex.” Harry tries to control the blush on his face, but he can’t help but be a little smug. He wants to make a good impression. More than that he wants to move on from his awkward high school self once and for all.

When they get to the house where the party is being held, most of the guests are already drunk or well on their way to being drunk. It smells like sweat and booze and marijuana and Harry’s never felt more like an extra in an episode of Skins.

“Do you think we could second-hand drunk just from standing here for too long?” He muses idly.

Niall cackles beside him. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s not a thing.”

Harry can’t help but scope out the crowd, looking for traces of Zayn and his hot theatre boyfriend. Despite his attempts at subtlety, Niall catches on immediately.

“Who you lookin’ for, then?” Harry’s not exactly sure how to bring up the Starbucks story, so he settles for a shrug.

“Just, you know, seeing if I recognize anyone.” Which, to be fair, is actually true. Zayn certainly counts as someone. As does Ed.

Speaking of which …

“Mate! You made it!” Harry feels someone slap him on the back and turns to see a completely inebriated Ed swaying on his feet behind him. Harry gives him a nervous smile.

“Yeah, didn’t want to miss it.” Ed hooks one arm around Niall’s shoulder, dragging him in closer so the three are gathered in a huddle in the middle of the room, drunken partygoers grinding up on each other (and in some cases, the walls and furniture) surrounding them.

“Do you need me to introduce you to anyone? I know it’s weird being new and all that shit.” Harry shrugs, wondering how he can casually bring up Zayn’s name without it being obvious.

“Are there any, like, _out_ people here?” he asks, suddenly shy, but Ed picks up on what he means immediately.

“You mean for a hook-up?” Harry shakes his head aggressively.

“No, not necessarily. More like, I just want to meet more people like me. I didn’t really have that, like, connection back in secondary or anything.”

Ed nods, understanding. “Yeah mate, you should meet Louis and Zayn. They’re both here, I think. Louis’ like, this acting prodigy. He’s completely brilliant and everyone knows he’s going to be famous one day. Zayn is an art student or summat and he’s brilliant too. They’re almost always glued at the hip, so if you find one of them chances are the other’ll be there too.”

Harry knows it’s probably weird to be so curious about two (freakishly attractive, apparently) guys he’s never actually met, but he’s never really been in a relationship before, and he can’t deny the part of himself that wants to see what it’s like for two blokes who are proud and happy to be together (and who seem to have the entire population of the school wrapped around their fingers). There was always such a stigma around being gay at the schools he went to, and to finally get to meet and talk to two guys who can just be together without anyone kicking up a fuss about it is a big deal for him. If he’s being honest, Harry wants it for himself, too, but he figures appreciating their relationship from afar will have to suffice.

Ed toddles off, spotting someone else he knows before Harry has the chance to ask him anything else. Niall, for his part, looks intrigued.

“Louis and Zayn, huh? How the hell are we supposed to find them if we don’t even know what the bastards look like?” And bless Niall for immediately agreeing to put aside his own enjoyment in order to help Harry find some gay friends. Harry pulls him into a hug, and Niall hugs him back without hesitation, completely accustomed to Harry’s unpredictable bursts of sentimentality.

“I actually know what Zayn looks like, I saw him at Starbucks yesterday.” At Niall’s raised eyebrow, Harry shakes his head. “No Niall, I was not being inappropriately friendly I promise. He was on the phone with someone so it’s not like I could talk to him.”

And suddenly Zayn’s conversation with someone named Lou clicks into place as Harry realizes he must be none other than the ‘Louis’ Ed was talking about.

As if reading his mind, Niall says, “It’s odd, I haven't come across many Louis’.”

Harry shrugs, immediately pushing away the memories that still linger from his least encounter with someone named Louis. Niall, apparently, is not in on the memo and keeps talking.

“Pronounced the French way, too. Like, I know your Louis spelled it all European, but he pronounced it the other way.”

Harry cringes at Niall calling him _his_ Louis even after 5 years of absolutely no contact and nothing but awkward memories. He chooses to only address the second part. “I’m pretty sure the name is French to begin with, Ni. If anything, the other way is just bastardizing it.”

Niall shrugs, already bored of the conversation. He takes Harry by the arm and drags him through the house until they reach the drinks table.

“Free beer?”

Harry nods. “S’what Ed said”

Niall grabs one for each of them and grins as they clink them together. “To a spectacular first year of Uni, and many more amazing ones to come!”

Harry takes a long swig from the beer, sighing happily.

Niall starts wandering back through the way they already came, but Harry wants to explore. He grabs Niall by the elbow and pulls him towards the stairs, holding on the banister as he drags Niall up behind him.

They reach a quiet hallway and Harry’s about to tell Niall to turn back around as there’s nothing to see there when he spots a familiar leather jacket at the end of the hall. He steps closer, his curiosity causing him to act without really thinking it through. Niall fumbles along behind him, confused, when Harry stops and sure enough …

The guy in the jacket is without a doubt Zayn. Meaning the person he has pressed against the wall and who he’s frantically sucking face with must be Louis.

Harry’s tipsy brain finally clues into the fact that standing at a party and watching two people make out is weird, and he turns around, intending to go back the way they came when Zayn breaks the kiss and mutters, “What do you want?”

Harry hears Niall gasp quietly beside him but doesn’t clue in as to why until he turns back around to answer Zayn, his eyes finally landing on this mysterious Louis.

At first he’s blinded by the pretty, taking in his incredible bone structure, blue _blue_ eyes and kiss-swollen lips. Then the recognizing-people’s-faces part of his brain kicks in and his jaw nearly drops to the floor.

Holy shit. Holy motherfucking shit.

Louis. As in Lewis. As in Louis-pronounced-Lewis Fucking Tomlinson.

Zayn is still staring at Harry impatiently, and right, he’s supposed to answer his question.

“I was, uh, looking for the bathroom and got lost, I guess.”

Zayn eyes Niall standing shell-shocked behind him before looking at Harry, his eyebrows raised suggestively. “I’ll bet you were. Come on, Lou, don’t want to get in the way of true love.” Zayn smirks and Louis laughs along with him, his eyes bloody twinkling mischievously.

Harry’s eyes are still stuck on Louis, like his mind is still processing the information in front of him. He keeps waiting for Louis to have a similar moment of recognition, but there’s just … nothing. Not even a hint that he knows Harry. Harry doesn’t know whether he wants to cry from relief or depression.

Louis takes Zayn’s hand and lets him lead him out of the way and down the hall, giggling at something Zayn is saying as they disappear around the corner.

Harry turns slowly to Niall, whose mouth is comically still open. “That was him.”

Harry nods, still not sure if he’s capable of speech yet.

“Drama Louis is _your_ Louis.”

Harry nods again, too stunned to bother correcting him. He’s not ‘his’ Louis. He never was.

“Motherfucker,” Niall whispers.

Harry couldn’t agree more.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit short but the rest will be closer to the length of the first chapter (or longer if I'm being honest).


	3. III

Harry doesn’t think he’ll ever get over the shock of seeing Louis at that party, and it seems like Niall is in the same boat. They both stumble back over to their dorm room around 1 in the morning, and while Niall had managed to get a girl’s number before they left, Harry was too stuck inside his own head for the rest of the night to pay much attention to anyone else.

Louis is gay. Louis, the boy he’d been obsessed with from the age of 12 onwards and who exclusively dated girls in high school, is gay. The awkward preteen inside of him is rejoicing.

It seems more has changed in five years than just his sexuality though; Louis (he’s still having trouble adjusting to the new pronunciation of Lou-ee rather than the Lewis he was so familiar with) had been something of a footie prodigy at their high school. Everyone was convinced he’d make it to the premier league someday. Harry has no idea what happened after he moved to make Louis some sort of drama wizard, but apparently he’s just as big of a deal at uni as he always was in secondary, only for a completely different reason.

Harry collapses face first on the couch when they make it into their lounge area, his brain foggy from beer and lingering shock. Niall lifts Harry’s legs up and sits down, placing them back over his lap.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asks quietly, and as much as Harry wants to just go to bed and forget about things until tomorrow, he knows he won’t be able to sleep.

“Yeah. I just … I don’t understand, I guess. He always dated girls, he was with Hannah for like, two years. Gemma made it sound like he was as straight as they come. What changed?”

Niall shrugs. “Dunno, mate. Maybe he didn’t realize ‘til later. Or maybe he knew but he was hiding it. People can be so cruel in high school, I don’t have to tell _you_ that.”

Harry frowns. No, Niall certainly didn’t. He has plenty of first-hand experience to go off of.

“It’s weird that he didn’t recognize us.”

Niall laughs. “Not really, mate. He had no idea who I was even back then. And have you seen yourself? You look nothing like you used to. For starters you’re about a half a head taller. I don’t think you realize just how much you’ve changed. He saw you last when you were, what, fourteen? I would have been surprised if he had recognized you.”

Harry pouted. “I recognized him.”

Niall rolls his eyes. “Yeah, and you spent a creepy amount of time obsessing over him. Also other than getting hotter and scruffier he doesn’t look all that different from how he used to.”

Harry sighs. “Yeah, guess you’re right. Doesn’t it make this more awkward, though? That I know him and he has no clue who I am?”

Niall gives him a smirk. “I love how many times we’ve had this conversation over the years.”

Harry socks him in the arm. “Hey, the context is different. Before I was being a whiny teenage boy. Now I’m genuinely confused about how to act around him.”

Niall shrugs. “Honestly, mate? I think it’s a good thing. Now that you’re older and fitter you actually have a serious shot with him. It’s like Operation Second Chance.”

Harry frowns. “He has a boyfriend. An incredibly hot boyfriend. This is like the Hannah thing all over again.”

Niall grins. “At least he’s actually dating a boy this time. That’s progress.”

Harry groans and pulls a blanket over his head.

 

***

 

Harry’s pleasantly surprised to find he only gets lost once on the way to class, and he breathes a sigh of relief as he collapses into the first available chair in his Introduction to Postmodern Literature class.  So what if he’s fifteen minutes early, at least he found the right classroom.

Someone coughs behind him and he turns, startled. A girl with red hair and hipster glasses gives him a pointed look. “You’re not supposed to be sitting there.”

And oh shit, maybe he had gotten the classroom wrong. So much for small victories. Before he has the chance to worry himself into an ulcer, the girl rolls her eyes and points at the sheet on the desk. “The girl sitting there just went to the bathroom. Unless you actually are Isabelle Poirot, I’m pretty sure you have the wrong seat.”

“There aren’t like, assigned seats, are there?” Harry asks in a panic. The girl raises her eyebrow.

“In uni, no, obviously not. You do need to submit your attendance sheet each week, though.” She points to the front of the room. “Prof has them in a stack by last name there. Just find yours, initial and date it, and hand it in at the end of every class.”

Harry breathes a sigh of relief and smiles at her gratefully before getting up and walking to the front of the class. He flips through the papers, looking for his name and panicking when he makes it past S and into T and there’s nothing there.

He goes back and scans them again quickly, convinced that there must be a mistake. He’s definitely enrolled in this class.

His anxiety is in overdrive as the class starts filling up around him, the seats claimed by people who are lucky enough to be able find their attendance sheets, the bastards.

A middle aged man in a corduroy trousers and a white button up strolls in, his briefcase tucked under his arm, and Harry races over to him because if this isn’t the professor he’ll eat his own curls.

The man looks up when Harry reaches him, raising an eyebrow. “A little early for questions, isn’t it? I haven’t even started teaching you yet.”

Harry blushes as a few girls in the front row laugh. “No, sir, I actually can’t seem to find my attendance sheet? I checked the pile but it’s, um, not there.”

The professor puts on a pair of glasses and pulls out a paper copy of the class roster.

“Last name?”

Harry swallows awkwardly. “Um, Styles.”

The professor scans the list quickly, muttering Harry’s last name under his breath until he spots something helpful.

“Ah, here’s the problem. You’re registered as Harry Twist-Styles.” Harry wants to facepalm but apparently that’s not something people actually do in public. Robin, Harry’s new step-father, comes from a rather wealthy background and had agreed to pay for Harry’s studies now that he’s finally committing to uni. Because he was the one who’d registered Harry, it makes sense that his last name would come up too by accident.

“Right.” Harry says awkwardly as the Professor silently hand him his attendance sheet.

Harry blushes and goes to find an empty seat. The class is completely full except for two seats in the back, and as the Professor pulls out his laptop and gets ready to start lecturing, Harry wonders if maybe he’ll be able to put his bag on the empty chair if the person doesn’t show up.

He’s practically giddy at the thought of actually having enough leg room in the cramped lecture hall when he hears the professor clear his throat from the front of the room.

“Tomlinson, nice of you to show up.”

Harry’s head jerks up so quickly he should probably get checked for whiplash after class. He does his best to control the awkward ‘ _mouth hanging open unattractively_ ’ thing as none other than Louis Tomlinson darts into the classroom with a grin, saluting the professor as he grabs his attendance sheet and darts up the steps all pixie-like before collapsing into the seat next to Harry.

Harry’s sure his face is a very unattractive shade of tomato at the moment, and he’s never been more glad that he chose to leave his hair down today because at least it covers most of the blush if he just keeps his head down.

Louis hums softly to himself as he pulls his notebook out of his knapsack, shoving it under the chair below him and finally settling into his seat.

Harry’s heart rate and blood pressure are just about under control again when Harry feels a dainty little poke to his upper arm and looks to the side to see Louis looking at him expectantly.

“Mate, can I borrow a pen? I basically forgot everything because I’m useless first week of classes.” His voice is just as simultaneously soft and sharp as Harry remembers it, though it’s a bit lower now and less … controlled.

Harry just stares at him, taking in his blue eyes and his adorably disheveled hair (way longer than Harry has ever seen it) and the little bit of scruff lining his cheeks and chin. Louis turns a bit red, and right, he’d asked Harry a question. Shit. Harry hasn’t even spoken yet and he’s already making an arse out of himself.

“Yeah, sure,” he finally manages to choke out, his voice sounding like gravel. It seems to do something to Louis though, as his pupils dilate a bit, and well, isn’t that an interesting development.

He quickly passes over a spare pen and Louis takes it gratefully. Harry turns back to face the front of the class, where the Professor has finally started outlining the different definitions of post-modernism and he feels another tiny poke.

“Sorry, didn’t catch your name?” Harry smiles at the look on Louis’ face. God he’s still so cute but also like, sexy. Harry’s doomed.

“Harry,” he says, and Louis’ eyes narrow just slightly, as though he’s searching his memory for something. After a moment, his face relaxes again and he grins, his perfect tiny little teeth on display.

“Louis,” He responds, and Harry thinks _believe me, I know_.

 

***

 

By the time class lets out, Harry is exhausted from trying to pay attention and take notes while simultaneously fighting the urge to turn and stare at Louis. He’d managed to keep it down to one glance every five minutes or so, which he’s quite proud of, especially considering he caught Louis staring at him once or twice too.

He’s packed up his bag and is just about to start the slow trudge back to the dorms when he hears Louis say, “Harry, wait up.”

Louis could have asked him to do pretty much anything and he would have agreed in a heart beat. He tries to be more casual than he feels when he turns back to face him.

“Yeah?”

Louis bounces down the steps until they’re standing next to each other, and Harry registers for the first time just how much smaller Louis is than him. Back when they’d known each other the first time, Louis had been a couple of inches taller than Harry, but now … Harry never knew he had a size kink, but the feeling in the pit of his stomach is telling his otherwise.

It doesn’t help that Louis is dressed in the tightest pair of jeans known to man, perfectly accentuating his beautifully glorious arse and thighs. He’s wearing a scoop neck t-shirt too, exposing some sort of chest piece and a bunch of tattoos running all up and down his right arm, and Harry is pretty sure he’s not going to survive this encounter. Death by Louis Tomlinson.

Niall will probably spend his allotted eulogy time laughing into the microphone.

Louis hipchecks him a bit to get him to start walking, and Harry obeys instantly. “You’re a first year, right?” Louis asks, and wow if this isn’t reminiscent of five years ago. Harry holds his tongue and nods.

“I could tell,” Louis says, but it’s clearly in a teasing way, and Harry blushes a bit. “Didn’t I see you at that party the other night?” Louis continues, and now Harry’s blush is probably visible from Pluto.

“Erm, yeah, maybe? There were a lot of people so …” Harry trails off, trying not to sound overly invested.

“Yeah, but I recognized you in an instant. Hard to forget curls like that,” Louis grins, and Harry feels both ecstatic and filled to the brim with anxiety. He has no idea how to respond, so he settles for a shrug.

“So the reason I was asking if you were a first year is because I try to make it my mission to help any freshers I encounter get through the awkward newbie stage of uni with a minimal amount of embarrassment.” Louis continues, waving his hands about as he talks. God, but he’s endearing. Harry wants to shove him in his pocket and carry him around everywhere he goes. He buries that thought as quickly as it pops into his head.

“And how do you intend to do that?” Harry asks, and he sounds so blase and unaffected he’s almost proud of himself. Louis grins, his eyes crinkling on the sides and any cool Harry managed to scrape together evaporates.

“Come grab tea with me and you’ll find out,” Louis teases, tilting his head in a way that is so obviously flirting that Harry wants to fall to his knees on the spot and thank every deity that might possibly exist.

Only there’s a part of him that can’t fully be happy because Louis has a boyfriend. A really hot, really popular boyfriend who will probably punch Harry in the face.

“But aren’t you dating that guy?” He asks, hoping it comes off a lot more casually than it feels. If Louis really is asking him out, it means that he’s okay with cheating on Zayn. Harry doesn’t particularly like the idea of what that means.

Before Harry can overthink it much more, Louis laughs and tugs on one of Harry’s curls.

“It’s coffee, not an orgy,” he beams, skipping out of the classroom and out into the hallway and Harry stands still, shell-shocked.

“And besides,” he calls over his shoulder, waiting for Harry to catch up. “Zayn isn’t my boyfriend.”

It’s a close call, but Harry very nearly throws his fist up in the air in order to re-enact the ending of the Breakfast Club.

He snaps out of it and chases after Louis instead.

 

***

 

Louis takes them to a quaint coffee shop on the other side of campus that Harry’s not familiar with. He smiles at the older woman behind the counter who grins back at him and leads Harry to an empty table by the window.

“Come here a lot?” Harry asks curiously.

“Embarrassingly often. They make the best tea I’ve ever had outside of me mum’s house. A lot of people don’t know about it so it’s usually pretty quiet. Dorene lets me sit here for hours going over my lines over and over again.” He grins. “Sometimes she’ll even read lines with me when there’s a lull. She’s easily the best King Lear I’ve ever had the pleasure of acting with.”

Harry glances at the kind-faced woman behind the counter and laughs. Louis has a serenely happy look on his face, like he’s comfortable, and Harry feels flattered to get to be in this moment with him.

Dorene comes over with two steaming mugs of tea and places them down in front of them, giving Harry a quick up and down and then shooting Louis a _look_.

“Here you go boys. Louis, yours is the same way you always take it, and I just did some milk with sugar on the side for you, dear.”

Louis beams at her as Harry trips over himself to thank her.

“Oh it’s not a problem, Louis comes in here often enough he may as well have a share in the business. Least I can do is bring his friend some tea on the house.”

“Thanks, love!” Louis grins. Dorene rolls her eyes, and as she walks away calls back, “I said his was on the house, dear, not yours.”

Louis sticks his tongue out at her like the mature adult he is before turning back to Harry. “So Harry, are you and that blonde guy from the party together?”

Harry nearly spits out the sip of tea he’s just taken. “Ummm, no?” He responds awkwardly, taken aback by how Louis’ just getting straight to the point, apparently.

“But you are queer?” Louis asks.

Harry just nods, stunned. “I’m gay, yeah.”

Louis looks at him thoughtfully. “Just wanted to check. When I said I make it my mission to help awkward first years, what I actually meant was I want to make sure that all the kids who aren’t straight and might be scared or freaked out about uni have someone to talk to.”

Harry gapes at him, open-mouthed. Holy shit, Louis is actually the best person he’s ever met. He’s never going to get over him at this rate.

A troubling thought occurs to him, and he decides to voice it rather than just shrugging it off.

“You didn’t, like, just assume I'm gay, right? Because I was with Niall that night when we bumped into you and Zayn, you know…” He trails off, not sure if he even wants to end that sentence.

Louis laughs. “No, I promise I would never just assume something like that based on a drunken encounter that lasted all of five seconds. Ed told me you were asking about people at school who were openly out and suggested I come talk to you.”

Harry feels infinitely better, a wave of relief crashing over him. And Ed, bless him, had actually listened to Harry and gone out of his way to help him feel comfortable. It’s official - Harry’s sending him a fruit basket.

“Wow, I mean … yeah, thank you.”

Louis waves a dismissive hand. “I’m glad to do it. I wish there’d been someone there to help me when I first started uni. For the longest time it was just me and Zayn and our shared closet, and it just … it was awful. I was terrified of people finding out about me, just this constant anxiety I could never get rid of.”

Harry feels his stomach drop. “What happened?”

Louis takes a sip of tea, choosing his words carefully. “I was in a different program at a different school in Yorkshire my first year - kinesiology, which was disastrous. I hated it, but I got in on a sports scholarship and it was one of the only programs that I thought I’d maybe be okay with. I was a bit of a footie star in secondary, everyone told me I’d be in the premier league one day, and while I enjoyed it well enough that was never really what I wanted for myself.

“But then I got the scholarship, and it meant I wouldn’t have to ask my mum for money she didn’t have, so I went for it. It only took me two weeks to realize I hated it. I didn’t want to play football for a living, and I didn’t want to study kinesiology. What I wanted, what I’d always wanted, was to be in theatre.”

Louis pauses, stirring his tea as Harry digests what he’d just said. Harry had been just as convinced as everyone else that Louis would be the next David Beckham, so to find out he never even wanted that for himself is huge. Harry wonders what other secrets Louis’ been keeping.

“Everyone had such high hopes for me, and it killed me that I felt like I was lying to them all. By the end of the first month I was on the verge of depression. I hated my program, I hated my school, I hated the way they took all the fun out of football. The only person I didn’t hate was my roommate, Zayn.

“We talked a lot, and he was the only one I felt comfortable enough talking to. He was in a similar position, studying engineering, even though he absolutely hated math, because it’s what his parents wanted. But beneath all of that, we realized we had something even bigger in common - we were both gay. Well, Zayn’s bi but the point still stands that neither of us are straight.

“Zayn’s parents were actually pretty okay with it, but I was terrified of telling mine. I didn’t think they’d hate me or anything, i just … I couldn’t stand the thought of disappointing my mum. She had all these ideas in her head of who I was and who I would be in the future, and the truth is I hated that person. I wanted to kiss boys and star in plays and wear fucking bright red trousers and stripes and not care about what other people said.”

Louis looks up at Harry with a wry smile on his face. “It was Zayn who convinced me that staying where I was, lying to everyone and being in a school and in a program that I absolutely hated, was far worse than anything my mum might say. He convinced me to talk to her, to at the very least stop sugar coating everything and pretending I was okay when I wasn’t.”

“What’d she say?” Harry asks, eyes locked with Louis’.

“She cried. And then she scolded me for doing something I hated just because I thought it would make her happy. She forced me to call the school the next morning and see what my options were.”

Louis grins at Harry, and his eyes are wet. “She hugged me tighter than I think anyone ever has and told me that she loved me no matter whether I wanted to be a footie star or an automechanic, and that she would smack me if I ever hid anything like that from her again because all she wanted was for me to be happy.”

Harry grins back at him, taking his hand on top of the table.  Louis squeezes back.

“The school obviously wouldn’t keep paying for me if I was no longer on the footie team. In retrospect, it’s probably the best thing that could have happened because I never really felt comfortable at that school. Nobody was outwardly homophobic, but nobody was out either. There was this weird silent acceptance that if you were gay, you should keep it to yourself and not ‘flaunt’ it, whatever the hell that means. I realized I didn’t want to be in an environment like that and, with my mum’s blessing, chose to look for schools in London.

“I happened to find one with an amazing drama program, and I’ve never,” he pauses, smiling, “I’ve never wanted something _so badly_. So I applied, and went through an audition process, and then nearly died of happiness when I got the phonecall saying I’d been accepted.”

Louis’ whole face lights up. “I decided to come out to my mum that night. I’d made a bargain with myself before, when I’d applied, that if I got in I would stop hiding and finally let myself be myself. I didn’t want to go through another four years of hiding who I am.”

Harry’s grip on Louis’ hand tightens, and Louis gives him a small smile. “She laughed. I couldn’t even believe it, but she just burst out laughing and asked me if I honestly thought she didn’t know that already. She said she’s known for years, since I was in secondary probably, and that she was just waiting for me to feel comfortable enough to tell her.” Louis grins. “Then she gave me bunch of pamphlets on safe sex from the hospital where she worked, hugged me again, and asked whether she could finally meet my boyfriend.”

“But I thought you and Zayn aren't together?”

“We were back then, but in that awkward, fumbling, ‘ _you’re the first boy I’ve ever been with_ ’ kind of way. We lasted five months before we realized the whole boyfriend thing wasn’t working. We still hook up, sometimes, but it’s more out of convenience than anything.”

Harry nods, eyes wide. “So how’d Zayn end up here too?”

“He transferred when I did. Told his parents he hated engineering and wanted to major in English. His mum stopped speaking to him for a week, but his dad managed to talk her around, and then he applied to the same school I did and we both started fresh the next fall.”

Harry’s tea has pretty much gone cold by now, but he can’t stop staring at Louis in awe. He’s been through so much in the past five years, has grown into this amazing, confident person who’s doing what he loves and wants to help others feel just as comfortable in who they are too.

Harry wants to lean across the table and kiss him.

Before he can get too lost in his fantasies, Louis coughs shyly and Harry blinks, realizing that while he’d been imagining him and Louis buying their first flat together and enrolling their children in preschool, his unwavering gaze had just been on Louis. Whoops.

“Louis, I’m glad you felt comfortable sharing that with me. You’re kind of incredible.” Harry settles on saying, because it’s the truth and also it’s far less awkward than blurting out ‘I want you to have my babies’.

Louis blushes for real, now. “Shut up, no I’m not. It took me a lot longer to be okay and honest with myself than it does for most people. I’m just more, I dunno, open about it.” Harry bites back a retort, knowing that Louis is not the type of person to accept compliments easily, no matter how true they are.

“So what about you, then?” Louis asks, his eyes playful. “Any skeletons in your closet you feel like sharing, pun fully intended?”

And suddenly any and all of Harry’s good humour vanishes in an instant, only to be replaced with stomach-clenching dread. This is it. He’s done for. Harry is a terrible actor and Louis will know he’s lying. Unless…

What if he doesn’t lie, per se, but just _artfully_ tells the truth, leaving out anything that could tip Louis off about their shared past. Harry’s in way too deep now to tell Louis the truth. He finally feels like they’re on an even playing field, and more importantly, that Louis _likes_ him; he’s not going to ruin that by revealing that he’s the same kid Louis once walked in on jerking off to his facebook profile pictures.

“No skeletons, exactly, just, you know, usual teenage awkwardness.” Harry says, keeping his tone light.

Louis grins. “Please go on, I do love awkward childhood stories.” Harry rolls his eyes while frantically searching for something he can reveal that Louis wouldn’t know. He has three years of going to school in Cheshire to choose from, but there aren’t any instances that particularly stand out. He was just kind of … there.

“I didn’t really have a lot of friends at school. Or any, really, I guess,” He settles for saying. “I spent a lot of time by myself, or reading in the library or whatever.” Harry looks down at the table, feeling embarrassed. Great, even without revealing his masturbating past he still comes across like an idiot.

He feels Louis’ warm hand on his again and looks up to see blue eyes locked on his. “I’m sorry,” Louis says softly, and Harry just knows that he actually means it. “That must have been terrible.”

Harry nods. “Like, I had friends from when I was younger, so it wasn’t like I didn’t have anybody, but they didn’t go to my school, so it was a bit lonely. I was never good at making friends, I just sort of stumbled into the ones I did have.”

He pauses, trying to find a way to redeem his younger self. “I was lucky because I was and still am really close with my sister, Ge - “ He realizes a second too late that saying Gemma’s name would be the most obvious way to reveal himself, so he spits out the first name he can think of, “- ennifer.”

Louis raises an eyebrow. “Jennifer?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I’m used to calling her Jen, so it’s always weird saying her full name to people who don’t know her.”

Louis, bless his soul, nods as if that actually makes sense. “I know what you mean. My younger sisters both go by nicknames, so whenever I have to introduce them by their proper names it feels weird.”

Harry smiles, relieved. “Yeah, exactly. Um, so yeah I was always close with my sister, and her friends never minded me hanging around with them after school and stuff, so it wasn’t like I had no one.” He pauses, thinking of his best friend. “And there’s always Niall, of course.”

Louis looks at him curiously. “Niall?”

“Yeah, he’s been my best mate for ages. He’s the one who was at the party with me the other night.”

“Right, yeah. And this is his first year too?”

Harry smiles. “Yeah, he’s studying music theory. First time in London for both of us.”

Louis bites his lip, pensive. “Funny, he looks familiar. I feel like I’ve seen him around campus before.”

Well shit. Of course Louis would recognize Niall Horan before he’d recognize Harry. Harry tries not to feel bitter.

“Niall’s just got one of those Irish faces, you know?” Harry says, as if that explains everything.

Louis laughs. “Yeah, I guess so.” He pauses to pick at a plate of biscuits that Dorene must’ve dropped off at some point. “What are you studying, anyway? You never mentioned.”

Harry swallows a cold sip of tea. “Oh, um, Law.”

Louis looks surprised. “Really? I would have figured you for a Liberal Arts major.”

Harry snorts. “It’s the hair and the tattoos, isn’t it?”

Louis blushes. “I was going to say it’s the fact that we both had an Intro to Postmodern Literature class together this morning, but sure, the overall hipster aura certainly adds to the image.”

Harry grins. “And that’s why you should avoid stereotypes,” He teases as Louis makes an indignant squawking noise.

“You’re such an arse,” he manages to get out in between giggles. “See if I invite you for tea ever again!”

And even despite his words, Harry has a pretty good feeling that getting Louis to spend time with him the future won’t be much of a challenge.

 

***

 

Harry goes back to his dorm room with a bounce in his step that makes Niall stare at him for a long second before beginning his interrogation.

“And just what are you so happy about Mister-Four-Hours-Late? I thought we were meeting after class to grab groceries?”

Harry’s grin immediately falters, replaced by guilt. “Oh shit, I forgot.”

Niall laughs. “Well that’s obvious. So, what happened?”

Harry bites his lip, trying to hold back the smile threatening to burst out on his face. “It turns out I’m not the only one taking Intro to Postmodern Literature.” Niall looks confused before a sly look creeps onto his face.

“Oh yeah? And might the person who obviously distracted you enough to forget our plans have a name that rhymes with gooey - which, by the way, is the state of your face right now, jesus, Styles.”

Harry pouts but doesn’t bother to deny it. “I love him so much I’m going to cry,” he announces before collapsing on the couch. Niall laughs and throws a pillow at his face.

“I’m going to need more details than that, arsehole. You can’t abandon me at Tesco and then leave me hanging, too.”

Harry groans. “So, like, the school accidentally has me registered as Harry Twist-Styles because Robin paid my tuition this year,and by the time I’d sorted out that I was, in fact, enrolled in the class, there were only two open seats left at the back of the class. And guess who took the one next to me? That’s right, _Louis Tomlinson._ I was basically trying not to openly stare at him for the entire two hours and …” Harry buries his face in his sleeve rather than finishing the sentence.

“Well obviously you didn’t embarrass yourself too badly if you two went out after,” Niall rationalizes. Harry blows out a dramatic puff of air.

“He asked me for tea after class and then explained that Ed had asked him to come talk to me.” Niall’s eyes widen as he nods understandingly.

“So what’d he say to you? Just general info on LGBT+ stuff on campus or …?”

Harry sighs. “No, he basically filled me in on everything that’s happened since I moved to Cheshire.”

Niall leans forward. “Does that mean he knows who you are now?” Harry groans and rolls over so his face is now buried in seat cushion. “No,” he mumbles.

“So … you lied?”

Harry sits up. “I didn’t _really_ lie, Niall, I just didn’t tell him that I lived somewhere else before Cheshire.”

Niall looks genuinely concerned. “Don’t you think that’s going to come back and bite you in the arse, later? You can’t keep this a secret forever, and it’s only going to get worse the longer you hide it from him. At least right now you can still play it off as a misunderstanding.”

Harry frowns. “I know, but I’m still … I don’t think you understand how terrible that time was for me, Ni. I’m still humiliated at just the thought of it, and like, Louis _avoided_ me for the rest of the time I lived there. I want to get to know him, first, show him who I actually am before bringing that up. I don’t want to ruin things before they’ve even had a chance to start.”

Niall nods. “Yeah, I mean, I guess that makes sense. I’m just worried that letting him think you’re someone you’re not only to have the rug pulled out from him later on is so much worse than bringing it up now.”

“You weren’t there, Niall. You didn’t see his face. You didn’t see how he _looked_ at me after that.” Harry pauses, trying not to let the sadness overwhelm him. “Yeah, I avoided him because I was humiliated, but he avoided me because I, like, _disgusted_ him. He wanted _nothing_ to do with me, and I’m afraid that if I tell him the truth now it’ll happen all over again, only it’ll be so much worse this time because I really do like him a lot. And I think he actually likes me too.”

Niall pulls Harry into a hug. “Okay, okay, I get it. Whatever you think is best, Haz. I’ll support you either way.”

Harry sniffles and gives him a watery smile. “Does that extend to calling my sister Jennifer from now on whenever Louis’ around?”

Niall’s eyebrows raise. “What?”

“Well I couldn’t very well tell him I have a sister named Gemma, could I? Surely he’d put two and two together.”

Niall gives him a long look before bursting into laughter. “Mate, you are so screwed.

Harry gives Niall the finger but can’t help thinking that he’s probably right. Oh well, that’s a problem for another day.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm updating before 1 in the morning, this is a first.


	4. IV

 

Niall forgives him easily enough for bailing on him, but Harry vows to make it up to him anyhow by taking him out for pizza. Niall, never one to turn down anything related to his stomach, agrees with an enthusiastic cheer.

“Thanks H! I don’t mind you forgetting we had plans if it means I get free food after.”

They decide to check out a place on the other side of campus that Niall swears is amazing.

“There’s like, three layers of pizza stacked one on top ‘o the other, mate, it’s crazy.” Niall excitedly makes the appropriate hand gestures, tripping over a divot in the sidewalk and nearly colliding with a jogger on the opposite side of the path. Harry puts a hand on his arm to brace him, his eyebrows furrowing.

“They do have normal food too, right? I don’t think I can digest that much cheese.”

Niall shudders. “Ugh, please never talk to me about your digestive functions again. And yes, there is regular boring pizza too.”

“Heeeeey,” Harry begins, but Niall’s pulling him sharply off the path and straight toward a quaint looking restaurant off to the left before he has a chance to defend himself.

Niall leads with his stomach, dragging Harry in through the front door behind him and coming to an immediate standstill, his eyes scanning the scene in front of him like he’s one of the chosen kids touring Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory.

“Sweet baby jesus,” he breathes, and Harry would laugh if not for the familiar looking blue eyes staring at him from a table by the window.

A waitress conveniently appears, asking where they want to sit. Niall’s beyond the ability to speak at the moment, his eyes closed as he inhales the scent of roasted tomato and melted cheese, and Harry’s not sure what to do because Louis’ still staring at him.

Harry breaks eye contact with Louis, intending to just ask her to seat them wherever, but he smells spicy cologne and feels someone next to him a second later.

“They can sit with us,” comes Zayn’s tired sounding northern accent, and fittingly it’s the only thing surprising enough to jerk Niall out of his pizza trance.

Harry gives him a surprised look but ultimately nods when the waitress asks if that’s okay with them. They all make their way over to Zayn and Louis’ corner table by the window, and Louis winks at Harry as he draws closer, making him blush. He pats the seat next to him and Harry wills the redness in his face to go down, hoping that it’s not actually as visible to everyone else as it feels like it is.

“Fancy seeing you again so soon,” Louis teases, his eyes sparkling like ocean on a sunny day. Harry wants to live inside of them.

Harry grins. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was almost deliberate,” he retorts, and it takes a second before Louis catches on to what he’s insinuating.

“Are you accusing me and Zayn of _following_ you, Harold?” He gapes, dramatically clutching his hand to his heart. Harry laughs.

“Because if anything,” Louis adds, “I’d say it’s actually the other way around. We were here first, after all. Weren’t we Zaynie? Celebrating your genius.”

Zayn rolls his eyes but Harry notices the tiny smile he’s suppressing. Louis claps his hands together.

“Oh shit, right, I haven’t properly introduced you yet, have I? Harry, this is Zayn. Zayn, Harry. And I’m assuming the blonde one over there is Niall?”

Niall snaps to attention at the sound of his name and gives Louis a friendly nod before returning to staring at the menu.

“He just needs some food in him before he can socialize properly,” Harry explains as Louis and Zayn exchange an amused look.

“Fair enough,” Zayn says, speaking directly to Harry for the first time. “Nice to meet you, by the way. Like, sober and everything. I don’t really remember much about Miller’s party if I’m being honest.”

Louis laughs and swats Zayn’s arm. “Probably for the best. I reckon we gave Harry and Niall quite the shock.” Louis turns back to Harry. “Zayn hates parties like that, I practically had to offer to name my firstborn after him to get him to come.”

Zayn shrugs. “Just not my thing. Too many people.”

Harry nods sympathetically. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I didn’t really go to parties like that when I lived at home, so it’s definitely overwhelming.”

Zayn smiles at him. “Yeah, exactly. And I’m an introvert too, which Louis refuses to accept - ”

“I accept it, you twat, I just don’t want to go to all these things without my best friend.” Louis cuts in, his mouth adorably stuffed as he’s just taken a bite from the bread basket.

“Anyway,” Zayn continues, “I don’t mind going to things like that every so often, I just get overwhelmed easily. And Louis’ nice enough to make sure we can sneak off and just get some air every once in a while.”

Louis beams, and Harry tries to not to laugh at the bread crumb bits on his face.

“I more than make it up to him by attempting to give him feedback on his stories for Creative Writing.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Does it really count as helping if all you do is throw in the occasional lewd suggestion and draw penises in the margins?” He inquires, but his voice is fond.

Louis sticks out his tongue. “Anyway, the point is, Zayn’s my best mate, and you’re my new mate, so I just want us all to get along and be happy.”

“I’d be happiest with some food in me stomach,” Niall grumbles half-heartedly from the other end of the table, and all three laugh.

“Here you go,” Louis says, shoving what’s left of the bread basket over to him. “Dig in.”

Niall shoot him a look of disbelief. “Has that been there the _whole_ _time_?”

Louis looks down, guilty, and Harry laughs at the subtle flush on his face. “We can ask for another one?”

Niall rolls his eyes but gives Harry a tiny smile when their meet eyes, pointedly looking between him and Louis.

 

***

 

Two whole pizzas later, Niall is finally full, and even better, seems to have developed some sort of immediate kinship with Zayn. The two of them have spent the better part of the last half hour talking about whatever an English and a Music Major have in common, and Harry finds himself slowly shifting closer and closer to Louis.

“It’s nice, you know?” Harry breathes quietly, watching his best friend say something that causes Zayn to burst out laughing.

Louis grins. “Yeah, I’m glad they get on so well. It’d be kind of awkward all around, otherwise.”

Harry smiles. “Not just them, though. Like, I didn’t expect to make friends so quickly. ‘m not used to it.”

Louis ducks his head. “I’m glad we defied your expectations then, Hazza.” When he looks up again, Harry has to bite back a gasp at how _blue_ his eyes are up close. Also, he’s not sure when it happened, but he and Louis are basically pressed up against each other at this point.

Harry finally processes what Louis said, and he find himself looking at Louis curiously. “No one ever calls me that except for my sister.”

Louis looks lost for a moment. “Weird, I don’t know why I said that. Must’ve just slipped out.”

Harry tries not to let the panic show on his face. Back in secondary, Gemma used to call him Hazza quite often, which is definitely where Louis first heard it. Harry prays that Louis’ subconscious isn’t clever enough to make that connection just yet. It doesn't’ seem like it, as Louis just shoots him a grin and plays with one of his curls. “I’m gonna have to call you that a lot, now, I think. It suits you.”

Harry pouts, but is sighing in relief on the inside . “What am I supposed to call you, then?”

“My friends don’t really have any special nicknames for me, aside from like, _Lou_.”

Harry raises his eyebrows in disbelief. "I don’t believe that for a second!” he exclaims before shooting Louis a conspiratorial smirk. "Do I have to ask Zayn?”

Louis’ eyes widen and Harry grins, victorious. “Okay, fine, but you have to promise you won’t say it in front of anyone aside from us four, okay?” Harry nods eagerly, feeling a warmth bubbling inside his stomach at being welcomed into Louis’ private circle so quickly.

“Mum used to call me Boo Bear. So, I will allow you to, _on occasion_ , use it.”

Harry claps his hands together like an enthusiastic child. “Boo Bear!”

Zayn’s head whips up, a surprised look on his face. “You told him already, Lou? I only found out about that nickname cause I overheard your mum on skype.”

Louis shrugs. “Hazza here’s let me in on his embarrassing past, least I can do is return the favour.”

Niall’s eyes widen and lock on Harry’s, telepathically begging to know if Harry’s finally told Louis the truth. Harry shakes his head subtly, his eyes begging Niall not to say anything.

The waitress drops by their table with the bill, and they realize they’ve been sitting there for two hours. Harry’s not exactly eager to go home and finds himself sad at the thought of leaving Louis again even though they’ve spent most of the day together already. Louis seems to be going through the same inner turmoil. He and Zayn lock eyes and have a silent conversation across the table before Louis turns to address all three of them at once.

“It’s Monday night, Zayn and I don’t have class until noon tomorrow, and our fridge is stocked with beer. You two feel like coming back to ours and hanging out for a bit?” Harry’s desperate to say yes, but he wants to keep at least some level of cool in front of Louis, and also he should probably ask Niall first just to be sure.

“Yeah, that sounds chill,” Niall shrugs, and Harry gives Louis a grin. “I’m in.”

Louis leaves money on the table. “Alright, Zayn, lead the way.”

Niall and Zayn immediately move towards the exit, already lost in conversation. Harry places a tentative hand on Louis’ shoulder.

“Lou, let me pay for half of this,” he gestures to the bill.

Louis shakes his head. “Nope, it’s your first week in a new city and at a new school.”

“Yeah, but - ”

“But nothing. Come on, Haz, it’s the least I can do. Besides,” he grins, “The waitress just took the money.”

Harry sighs dramatically but finally lets go of Louis’ arm. “Alright, I _guess_ I can let you pay for my dinner.” He pauses, grinning. “Thanks, Boo Bear.”

Louis grimaces. “I take it back. You can pay after all.”

Harry lets out a loud cackle before hooking his arm through Louis’ and walking them both outside.

 

***

 

Louis and Zayn’s flat is only a 10 minute walk away from campus, and Harry is pretty much in love with it from the moment they step inside. It’s relatively small considering there are two people sharing it, but Zayn explains that they spend most of their time hanging out in the living room so it hardly matters that the rest of the rooms are tiny. Plus, Zayn is quick to point out, they have a balcony and a 46” flat screen, so neither of them is complaining.

The flat is sparsely decorated, with Louis’ clothes and shoes draped all over the place. Louis flushes and picks them up, tossing everything onto the floor in his room and closing the door firmly behind him.

“Zayn, you wanna grab some beers?” Niall joins him in the kitchen as they hunt down some snacks too, Niall chattering excitedly away as Zayn listens attentively. Harry watches them with a smile on his face before he feels a small hand pull him backwards.

“Come on, then, let’s call dibs on what movie we’re watching.” Louis tugs him over to the TV, bending forward to look at all the titles. Harry does his best to avert his eyes from Louis’ bum, but it’s really hard. He laughs at his own pun in his head. He then calls himself an idiot.

“I could use some help you know, Harold. The movie’s not going to pick itself,” Louis teases, and Harry ducks down to help him, narrowly avoiding smacking his head against the frame.

He winces, rubbing his head. “You know my name’s not actually Harold, right?”

Louis shrugs. “Don’t really care, to be honest.”

Harry elbows him. “That’s not very nice.”

Louis giggles, and Harry’s so endeared it hurts. “It’s funny seeing you react to it. That’s all I meant.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Well, in that case I guess you won’t mind if I start calling you Lewis.” Louis freezes, his expression panicked. Harry realizes a moment too late that he probably shouldn’t have said that. Sure, Louis went by that pronunciation before, but obviously something happened since then to make him change it.

“Everything okay, Lou?” Zayn asks from the kitchen, obviously concerned about the sudden silence. Louis clears his throat and takes a deep breath, answering Zayn like normal.

“Everything’s fine, just appalled by Harry’s terrible taste in films,” he calls back, and if it wasn’t for the subtle tremor in Louis’ hand, Harry would probably believe him.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispers.

Louis puts his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “It’s okay, it’s nothing. I’m just a bit … sensitive, I guess. About that name.” Louis laughs humorlessly. “That’s what everybody used to call me back in secondary. It was part of my ‘straight boy’ disguise, you know? I haven’t been called that in years, it just took me by surprise.”

Harry bites his lip, wanting to pull Louis into a hug but not sure he’s allowed to. Louis must see the inner struggle projected on Harry’s face because he laughs and tugs Harry into his arms. “It’s okay, you great oaf, it’s not your fault.” Harry can’t quite bring himself to believe him.

 

***

 

They finally settle on the fourth Harry Potter movie, with Louis citing his desire to watch Robert Pattinson in something without angsty vampires as the main reason. Zayn rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue, and the four of them settle in on the couch, with Niall hugging a bowl of cheetos to his chest.

Harry is painfully aware of how close he is to Louis, only an inch or so separating them on the couch. He wants to move closer but he’s afraid, the voice inside his head telling him he’s still not good enough, that Louis doesn’t actually want him no matter how much the signs point in the opposite direction.

Louis ends up being the one to lean his head against Harry’s shoulder, reaching a hand up to play distractedly with his curls. Harry’s barely breathing at this point, terrified that he’ll move or speak or do something to shatter the illusion. He makes it a grand total of five minutes before Louis leans up a bit to whisper in his ear. “It’s okay, you know, you can relax.”

Harry sighs, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding before sagging against the couch and shifting closer to Louis. “Good boy,” Louis murmurs in his ear, and Harry feels a jolt of attraction in the pit of his stomach.

By the time they finish the movie, Louis is sitting in Harry’s lap (because according to him, Harry makes a much more comfortable seat than the sofa) and his legs are stretched out so his feet are tucked under Zayn’s legs (for warmth, he claims). He’s giddy and adorable and keeps making quiet remarks about the movie to Harry, who’s just barely able to stop himself from laughing loud enough to disrupt the other boys.

The end credits roll on screen and Louis stands up, stretching his back and revealing a sliver of  tanned skin when his t-shirt rides up.

Harry stares. Zayn notices.

Zayn waits until Niall and Louis have both migrated to the kitchen in search of more snacks and beer before saying anything. “Hey, Harry, you mind joining me for a smoke on the balcony?”

Harry looks at him oddly. “But I don’t smoke.”

Zayn raises an eyebrow. “Good thing I wasn’t asking if you wanted to bum a cig off me then, yeah?” Harry pushes down his confusion and follows Zayn outside, rubbing his hands over his arms to keep warm.

Zayn puts a cigarette between his lips and lights up, inhaling and breathing out before he turns to Harry.

“What happened earlier, when you two were picking out a film?” And of course Zayn had noticed. Harry had been a fool to think he hadn’t. Zayn has already proved how loyal he is to Louis, how attentive he is to him after everything they’ve been through together. Harry sighs.

“He was calling me Harold, so I called him Lewis.” Zayn tenses, and Harry feels even worse. Zayn notices, putting a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“Look, it’s not a big deal, you didn’t know any better. Just don’t call him that again, yeah?”

Harry sighs. “I just don’t … like, he said everyone used to call him that before. What happened?”

Zayn takes another puff, staring out at the sky as Harry waits for him to respond. “It’s not really my place to talk about, but he went through some personal shit even after he finally came out. He only started asking people other than his family to call him Louis a couple of years ago. I think hearing his old name just reminds him of some things and people he’d rather forget.”

Harry nods. “I understand. I never would have said anything if I’d known. I …” Harry falters, not sure how much of his feelings he’s ready to reveal to Zayn. “I care about him a lot, which I know seems insane because we’ve only known each other a few days, but I don’t want to hurt him.”

Zayn nods. “I know you don’t. And I don’t think you will, not intentionally, anyway. But I have to do the best mate thing anyway and tell you to be careful. Louis is strong, but he’s not as tough as you might think. He’s been hurt in the past, and he tends to close off that part of himself when he meets new people. But there’s something different about the way he is with you.”

Zayn pauses, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’ve never seen him like this so instantly, not even with his old boyfriends. Just be careful, okay?”

Harry bites his lip, “Can you ... I mean, what happened, before, with him?”

Zayn shakes his head. “It’s up to Louis to tell you, if he wants. All I’ll say is he gives so much of himself to other people, and he’s let down by them far too often.”

Harry looks down at the railing. “I care about him too. A lot.” He meets Zayn’s curious eyes. “I just want you to know that it’s mutual, okay? I don’t know where this is going, exactly, but I know where I _hope_ it is. Either way, I just want Louis to be happy.”

Zayn grins, and it’s so genuine it makes Harry smile back. “Good,” he says, patting Harry on the back before dropping his cigarette on the ground and heading back inside.

Harry stays outside by himself for a long moment, letting everything Zayn said sink in. Even though he has his own reasons for hiding the truth from Louis, he’s starting to wonder if it’s really worth it in the long run. But then the thought of coming clean to Louis makes it hard for him to breath, just remembering the look of disgust on Louis’ face, how he’d avoided him for weeks.

No, Harry can’t say anything. Not yet. Louis will understand, Harry’s sure, once they’ve gotten to know each other a little better. It’s only been a few days, after all. He has plenty of time.

“Hey Hazzababe! We’re all waiting for you!” Louis’ voice pulls him out of his internal crisis and he grins at the new spin on the nickname.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m coming, Boo Bear.”

Louis’ face scrunches up as Niall bursts into laughter, Zayn rolling his eyes beside him. All in all, it’s not a bad way to spend a Monday night.

 

***

 

They get twenty minutes into _the Order of the Phoenix_ before Louis announces he’s bored.

“You can’t just turn the movie off because you’re bored, Lou, at least not without asking everyone else first.” Zayn complains, staring at the black screen in front of them. They’re all a little tipsy, but Louis’ reached a whole other level.

Louis dances around the coffee table with the remote still in his hand, launching himself at an unexpecting Harry. He groans as Louis knees him in the appendix. “A little warning next time,” he mutters, but then the next second Louis’ face is in his and he presses a gentle drunken kiss to Harry’s lips. “‘M sorry,” he says softly, and Harry thinks it’s worth sacrificing all of his internal organs if it means Louis will do that again.

Louis smiles at the look on Harry’s face, burrowing into his side on the couch. “I changed my mind,” he announces. “I think it’s nap time.”

Zayn groans. “Lou, it’s 2 o’clock in the morning. You can’t exactly nap after dark”

“Says who? I’m sleepy.”

Zayn shrugs. “Alright then, guess we’re napping.” Niall seems just as content to sprawl across his part of the couch, but he gives Harry a concerned look. “H, what about your back?”

Harry cringes, already dreading the pain he’ll be in the next morning, but he really doesn’t want Louis to move.

Louis solves the problem for him by climbing off Harry’s lap and dragging him off the couch and over to his disastrous bedroom. Niall attempts a half-hearted wolf whistle before Zayn smacks him on the shoulder and he shuts up.

“Lou, what are we doing?” Harry asks, leaning against the wall as Louis kicks all of his clothes and shoes into the corner of his room.

“We’re napping, Hazza.” Louis decides, making grabby gestures at Harry. He walks over slowly, and as soon as he’s within Louis’ grasp he feels himself being tugged onto the bed.

“There. Now I don’t have to worry about your back hurting when you wake up,” Louis says decidedly, curling up under the blankets. Harry lies there for a long moment, unsure if he’s actually awake or if he’s fallen into some wonderful dream he never wants to wake up from. The sharp pinch to his cheek answers that question.

“What are you dawdling for? Come on, Hazza, I want cuddles.”

Harry grins, tucking himself under the blanket behind Louis and pulling him in, the big spoon and the little spoon.

Louis’ already halfway to dreamland, his voice growing fuzzy. “I like you, Harry,” he mumbles on the edge of sleep. Harry grins, pressing his lips to the back of Louis’ head. “I like you too, Lou.”

And if Harry’s dreams are filled with Louis, too, well, no one else needs to know.

 

***

 

Harry’s pretty sure he wakes up with a smile on his face the next morning, and it only takes one look at the sleeping boy cuddled up next to him to remember why. He has class in 45 minutes and knows he should get up, but he’s just so _happy_. Also, Louis is lying half on top of him and he doesn’t fancy waking him up just yet.

Harry decides to close his eyes for another 5 minutes, savouring the moment, when he feels a small puff of breath on his neck and hears Louis snuffling as he wakes up.

“Harry?” he asks, voices scratchy and sleepy. Harry wants to kiss him.

“Hey Lou, I have to go to class in a bit. I didn’t want to wake you, though.” Louis grumbles and rolls off of Harry and onto his back, blue eyes blinking slowly awake.

“D’ya have to go?” Louis asks quietly.

Harry nods sadly. “It’s only the second day, Boo Bear, I can’t start skipping already.”

Louis frowns, his whole face scrunching up adorably.

Harry slowly pulls himself out of bed, missing the warmth the second he’s standing on the cool hardwood flooring in the same clothes he was wearing yesterday.

Louis yawns and sits up, eyes widening when he takes in the state of Harry’s shirt. “You can’t show up to class looking like you’ve just come from a one night stand.” Louis flops out of bed, rubbing his eyes as he walks over to his dresser. He picks out a white v-neck t-shirt and tosses it to Harry.

“This is baggy on me so it should fit your massive shoulders perfectly,” he says with a teasing smile.

“‘M not massive, you’re just tiny. Like a woodland creature. Or a pixie.”

Louis seems to take great offence to that comparison. “Oi! I am not a bloody woodland creature!”

Harry grins, pulling his wrinkled shirt off and putting Louis’ on instead. He’s pleased to note the flush that runs up Louis’ neck and the ways his pupils dilate just enough to be visible.

“Just a pixie, then,” Harry decides, and Louis doesn’t bother arguing, still staring at Harry in a way that’s guaranteed to boost his self-esteem tenfold.

Harry pokes the tip of Louis’ nose on the way out of his room and into the common area where Niall is still sleeping, sprawled across the couch. His hand is still dangling in a bag of barbecue crisps propped up on the floor, and Harry’s tempted to take a picture.

Louis follows Harry out of the room a moment later, letting out a sharp laugh when he sees. Niall groans and rolls over so his face is buried in the seat cushion. “Too early for noise,” he mumbles.

Harry crouches down next to him. “We have class in half an hour, Ni. You’ve kind of got to wake up.”

Niall groans again and waves a hand blindly in the air. “Class is stupid. Save yourself, go on without me.”

Louis giggles again, and Harry’s pretty sure it’s the best sound he’s going to hear all day.

“Well, I was planning on blaring the _Wicked_ soundtrack while I make breakfast, but as long as that doesn’t bother you I guess you can stay - ”

Niall’s off the couch midway through Louis’ sentence. “No. No soundtracks. Not before noon.”

Louis shrugs and says, “Next time, then,” before turning to Harry. “You sure you don’t have time for some breakfast before you go? I pour cereal, like, _super_ well.” Harry grins, and he’s pretty sure he has actual stars in his eyes.

“Nah, We’ll just grab something on campus.” He grabs Niall by the upper arm and hoists him into a sitting position.

Louis grabs a pack of gum from the table and tosses a piece to Harry and Niall each, who take them gratefully.

“You don’t happen to have an extra shirt Niall can borrow too, do you?” Harry asks, but Niall interrupts before Louis can respond.

“Zayn told me to just grab one of his last night.” He points to a black t-shirt with a logo Harry doesn’t recognize folded neatly on the other chair.

Louis looks impressed. “Zayn must really like you, then. He never lends people his stuff, especially when he’s just met them.”

Niall shrugs. “Must be me Irish charm.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “It’s your Irish something, alright.”

Niall looks offended but Louis looks gleeful, which definitely wins out. Once Niall is dressed and somewhat alert, they both head over to the door. Louis trails behind, a small smile on his face.

“So this was fun,” he says, sounding surprisingly shy. Harry wraps his arms around him, feeling Louis sag against him and give into the hug completely.

“We should do it again,” Harry murmurs into Louis’ hair, pleasantly surprised by his own suaveness. Or he would be, anyway, if he couldn’t hear Niall laughing at him a few feet over.

It seems to work for Louis, though, and that’s all that matters. “You want to go grab a late lunch after both of our classes? I know a great panini place.”

Harry nods. “That sounds lovely, Lou.” Louis preens a bit and stands on his tiptoes to give Harry a soft peck on the mouth.

“You’re lovely,” he responds, blushing.

Harry shuts off the part of his brain that over analyses his every move and just lets himself enjoy the moment.

“Text me,” he says, and Louis stares at him with glassy eyes before biting his lip and nodding.

Before the scene can become any more like a romantic comedy, Niall grabs Harry sharply by the elbow and tugs him out of the flat and into the hallway, going so far as to close the door behind them.

Niall waits until they’re outside Louis and Zayn’s building before he starts interrogating him.

“Mate, you’re properly head over heels with him.”

Harry just nods, not even bothering to hide it or downplay it. It seems like he’s finally getting what he’s wanted since he was 12 years old. He refuses to be embarrassed.

“I guess it’s a good thing he seems to be just as pathetically into you as you’re into him, then,” Niall adds casually, and Harry wonders if it’s actually possible for his heart to beat right out of his chest and fly up towards the sun like a balloon. Probably not, he figures.

It’s true, though, is the thing, and even the part of his brain that will be eternally 14 years old and awkward can acknowledge that Louis is clearly into him. Sure, Louis has no idea that said 14 year old version of him even exists, let alone knows him, but that’s a problem for another time, and even Niall taking the piss out of him the entire walk over to campus can’t wipe the smile off his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to keep updating once a week. I have next chapter covered for sure but it may stretch to two weeks after that. I WILL DO MY BEST TO STICK TO A WEEKLY SCHEDULE THOUGH. Who needs sleep?


	5. V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After watching that disaster of a livestream, I’d like to personally dedicate this chapter to Ben Winston. Because he’s a tool.

Harry gets a text from Louis just as he’s coming out of his criminology class telling him to meet him at a panini place around the corner.

He grins, pocketing his phone and bounding over. When he walks in, the smell of grilled vegetables and roasted meats fills the air, and Harry momentarily feels like he’s channeling Niall as his stomach lets out a loud grumble.

“Seems like you got here just in time, then,” Louis’ teasing voice drifts over from a table off to the side, and Harry spins around with a giant smile on his face. Louis’ expression softens in response, his eyes warm as he meets Harry’s.

“I hope you don’t mind I already ordered for us. I know that seems obnoxious but they have this absolutely amazing assorted meat and cheese sandwich that you _have_ to try.” Louis pauses, his eyes uncertain. “Unless you don’t like meat or something, you stuck mainly to cheese at the pizza place the other day … Shit, I’m sorry, I can order you something else, whatever you’d like - ”

Harry cuts Louis off, grinning. “Louis, that sounds delicious. And for the record, I think it’s lovely that you wanted to surprise me.”

Louis lets out a breath and grins at Harry, his eyes crinkling on the sides. “Good, cause like, it’s a _really_ good panini.”

Harry rolls his eyes fondly and takes the seat across from Louis. “Did you order drinks too?”

Louis shakes his head. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted so I just got waters to start.”

Harry nods. “That’s good with me. I’m trying to cut down on sugar, anyhow. Mum keeps sending me all these articles about how unhealthy uni students are and she has me terrified I’m going to get diabetes or scurvy and die tragically.”

Louis laughs and Harry beams. “Yeah, me mum used to do the same thing until she realized no amount of nagging was going to get me to stop spending money on take out. I try to have more variety, now, though, as a compromise - like I’ll have Thai one day and then Greek the next or whatever, but she still thinks I should learn how to cook.”

Harry has an idea, then, and before he can over think whether or not it’s a good one, he blurts out, “I can teach you how to cook!”

Louis stares at him, stunned. “You can?”

Harry nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, I’ve been cooking for ages. I can come up with a bunch of simple recipes that’ll be easy for you to make. I can even throw in some desserts as well.”

Louis’ face breaks out into one of the most radiant grins Harry has ever seen. “Haz, that’d be amazing! I’ve been meaning to learn at least the basics for ages, but I never had time, or, well, if I’m being honest I’m too lazy, but yeah!”

Harry ducks his head, smiling. “Are you free tonight? I mean, not to like, impose or anything, I know we’ve spent a lot of time together already …”

Louis lets Harry ramble on for all of three seconds before he leans across the table and pokes Harry in the cheek. “I would love for you to teach me how to cook tonight, Harold. In fact, I may even have to call my mum to share the joyous news.”

Harry bites his lip, so so pleased and trying desperately to hide it. “Okay, good. I’ll come up with some recipes and grab the ingredients after my next class, and then you can come over around 8.”

Louis grins. “Between the paninis we’re about to have and you cooking me dinner tonight, I don’t think I’ll ever eat as well again as I do today.”

Harry blushes. “I’m not cooking you dinner, Lou. _We’re_ cooking dinner together. Teamwork and all that.”

Louis pokes at Harry’s dimple again, and after how touchy-feely they’ve been since they became friends (again, in Harry’s case), he doesn’t even flinch.

“Even better,” Louis agrees, his voice soft.

The moment is interrupted by the waiter bringing by their paninis, but for once Harry’s not one to complain. He really is hungry, and Louis’ right - they look _amazing_.

 

***

 

Harry learns nothing in his last lesson of the day as he spends the entire time obsessively scribbling down grocery items and making a pro/con list about which recipes he wants to try. He finally settles on a main dish and one dessert. He doesn’t want to make anything too difficult that will overwhelm Louis when he tries to make it by himself later, but he also wants to impress him. Louis’ always been the one with the talent, and this is Harry’s turn to sweep him off his feet. Which he fully intends to.

No one’s ever said no to his fajitas.

Harry drops by the closest grocery store on the way back to his apartment, stocking up on everything he needs. He lingers by the dessert aisle, eventually grabbing a box of chocolate cake mix. He can always teach Louis something fancier later, but for the moment, he thinks they’ve both earned a delicious fudge cake with minimal effort.

He’s just put the box in his basket when his mobile starts ringing, and he awkwardly rearranges his things until he’s able to maneuver it out of his pocket to answer.

“Baby bro! Long time no speak!”

Harry laughs. “Gemma, it’s literally been a week since I last saw you.” He can practically hear Gemma frowning over the phone.

“I know, but it’s weird being back at home again. Now you’re the one who’s off exploring the world while I’m watching daytime soaps on mum’s couch because my useless degree won’t get me any jobs.”

“Your degree’s not useless.”

Gemma sighs darkly. “You’re right. Every degree is useless at this point.”

Harry spots a woman working in the produce section staring at him from the corner of his eye and picks up his basket so he can finish grabbing the last of the ingredients for dinner.

“So that’s why you’re calling me? Got nothing better to do?”

“Don’t be dumb. I just miss you, is all.”

Harry smiles into the phone. “I miss you too. You know, you should come visit sometime, like once I’ve properly settled in and everything.”

Gemma claps excitedly on the other end of the phone. “That’d be brilliant! Are you sure Niall wouldn’t mind me staying with you?”

Harry lets out an amused snort. “I can assure you Niall definitely won’t mind.”

He can hear Gemma’s answering grin in her voice. “Brilliant. Well, I’ll let you get back to it then. But definitely expect me sometime next month. You can show me all around London and let me embarrass you in front of your new friends.”

Harry’s heart stutters uncomfortably at her words, but Gemma mercifully doesn’t notice anything’s wrong. “Yeah, sounds good Gems. I’ll talk to you later, okay? I’m just in the middle of something.”

Gemma sighs dramatically. “Oooookay, I guess I’ll let you get back to whatever it was you were doing. Love you, H.”

“Love you, too.”

 

***

 

When he gets back to the flat, he trips over a pair of shoes Niall’s left in front of the door.

“Ni! I’d appreciate it if I could come home without the risk of death,” he grumbles as he trudges over to the table and starts putting away the things he’s bought.

Niall sticks his head out of his room, sliding his earphone off. “What’d ya say, H?” he inquires, before his eyes land on all the food on the table and Harry can practically hear his stomach from here. “Oh, what’s that for?”

Harry shakes his head. “Nothing. And it’s not for you,” he says, gently slapping Niall’s hand away when he reaches out to touch the tortillas.

Niall looks confused then. “For who, then? You always let me share when you’re cooking.”

Harry tries to keep his tone casual and fails miserably. “Louis’ coming over and I’m teaching him how to make fajitas because he doesn’t really know how to cook.”

Niall’s eyes widen. “Jesus, Harry, this is like, a _thing_ isn’t it?”

Harry feels his heart hammering in his chest. “Well, we haven’t like, _talked_ about it or made it official or whatever, but yeah, I think it is.”

Niall looks like his head is going to explode. “Harry, I am so happy for you. I can’t even believe this, honestly. If fourteen year old you knew what was coming five years down the line, he’d have had a heart attack.”

Niall starts throwing a bunch of things into a bag as Harry watches in confusion.

“What are you doing?”

Niall gives him a disbelieving look. “Giving you two some privacy, obviously. I know when not to third wheel.”

Harry gapes. “Niall, it’s not like that, I’d never kick you out. And besides, we’re just making fajitas, I promise.”

At Niall’s raised eyebrow, Harry pouts indignantly. “That’s not a euphemism!”

Niall shrugs. “I know you’d never kick me out, H, but I also know how long you’ve wanted this, and I want to do whatever I can to help.” He pauses, a small smile on his own face. “Besides, Zayn asked me to come to a show with him tonight.”

Harry’s mouth drops open. “Since when are you and Zayn so close?”

Niall grins. “Dunno, we just get on really well. He’s nice, you know, different from the other lads here.”

Harry blinks. “Well, have fun. Don’t get too drunk. If there are any leftovers I’ll save them for you.”

Niall pats Harry on the back. “Thanks mate. Same goes to you.” He pauses at the door, a smirk on his face. “And remember, no glove, no love.”

Harry cringes as Niall cackles, showing himself out with a flourish. Harry can still hear his laughter as he walks down the hall.

 

***

 

Harry’s just set the kettle to boil when he hears a knock on the door. He quickly checks out his reflection in the window, nervously patting down his curls and adjusting his shirt so it sits perfectly on his collarbones.

He knows it’s dumb to be anxious, it’s Louis, but that’s exactly the problem. It’s _Louis_. Harry still can’t believe how lucky he is.

He darts quickly over to the door, the smile on his face only growing as his eyes meet Louis’. Louis’ wearing the same clothes as earlier, but he’s swapped his hoodie for a dark red t-shirt that shows off the top of his chest piece. Harry just sort of stares at him for a long moment before he realizes that he should probably invite him inside like a normal polite human being.

Louis shoots him a quick grin as Harry gestures for him to come in, but it seems like his heart’s not entirely in it. If Harry’s being honest, now that he’s no longer distracted by how hot Louis looks, he can tell that there’s something just a bit off about Louis tonight. He can also tell that Louis is doing his best to hide it, shooting Harry fond smiles and making a big show of poking through the food items Harry’s set on the counter.

Harry does his best to ignore whatever it is that’s keeping Louis from being completely present, deciding that if he wants to talk, he’ll make sure Louis knows he’s there to listen.

The kettle whistles and Harry makes them both a cup of tea, with Louis murmuring his thanks and taking a grateful sip while the cup is still piping hot.

“How do you not burn all of your tastebuds off?” Harry asks in horror.

Louis winks. “Years of practice, love. Also I’m very impatient.”

Harry smirks. “I’ve noticed.”

Louis gives him a mock affronted look and smacks him on the arm. “Oi! That wasn’t very nice.”

Harry giggles. “Well, I’m teaching you how to cook. I think my ‘nice’ quota’s been filled for the next little while, don’t you?”

Louis rolls his eyes dramatically but eventually concedes defeat. “All talk and no action you are, Hazza. I’ve been here a whole five minutes and you’ve done nothing but tease me.”

Harry grins. “I also made you tea, which you conveniently left out.”

Louis waves a hand in the air and ignores him. “Alright, what are we making?”

Harry pulls out the tortilla package with a flourish. “Chicken fajitas!”

Louis stares at him like he’s the next coming of Christ. Harry does his best not to purr audibly.

“So there’s like, proper vegetables and stuff in there too?” Louis asks, still sounding awestruck.

Harry laughs. “Yeah, and if we add in a mixed berry salad for dessert we can hit all four food groups.”

Louis blinks and then steps forward to pull Harry into a hug. “My mum will probably frame a picture of you in our house, I hope you realize.”

Harry preens. “As long as I get to pick the picture.” Louis laughs and it makes Harry feel all warm and gooey inside.

 

***

 

Whatever weirdness was off with Louis when he first arrived has almost completely faded within 20 minutes of Harry lecturing him on proper food prep procedures and teaching him things like ‘how to preheat the oven’ and ‘how to tell when chicken is properly cooked so you don’t get salmonella’. Louis’ a good student and a quick learner, and Harry’s more than happy to let him try his hand at sauteing the vegetables with minimal supervision.

They get everything ready and set the table to eat when Louis’ phone goes off across the room.

His entire face drains of colour and he runs over to grab it, checking the caller ID and answering breathlessly as he runs to shut himself in the bathroom to take the call.

Harry stares at the closed door unsure of what to do. Louis hadn’t mentioned waiting for a phone call, but whatever it was, it was urgent enough to send him into a state of utter panic.

Harry pushes down the childish part of himself that feels hurt that Louis obviously didn’t feel comfortable taking the call in his presence and gets to work assembling the fajitas for the both of them.

He’s just made up two full plates and poured out two glasses of wine when Louis emerges from the bathroom looking a bit sick.

“Oh Hazza, you didn’t have to make mine for me but thank you.” His voice sounds surprisingly normal despite the fact that his hands are trembling. Louis sits down at the table like nothing happened, as though his entire face isn’t white as a sheet.

Harry gapes at him, not sure if Louis honestly expects him to ignore whatever it is that just happened or not.

“Ummm, are you, like …” he pauses, uncertain, and then just spits it out. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Louis looks up at him and the colour’s returned to his face, though his hands are still clenched unnaturally tightly.

“Yeah, fine,” he says with a small smile, ready to tuck into the meal.

“But like …” Harry trails off, not really comfortable leaving it at that. “You’ve been a bit … off .. all night, and then that phone call happened, and I guess I just,” Harry has no idea what he’s saying, and the idea of throwing himself out of a window head first is sounding more and more appealing, but he knows he has to get this out.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Louis stares at him with a blank expression before his eyes suddenly fill with tears.

Harry wants to shrivel up and die on the spot for somehow managing to make Louis cry, but seeing as that’s not an option, he jumps up and runs over to him, kneeling down next to his chair and pulling Louis firmly into his arms. He runs a soothing hand up and down Louis’ back as Louis tries to get back his composure.

“I’m sorry,” Louis finally says. “This has just been building up for weeks and I’ve been trying not think about it,” he pauses to take another deep breath of air, “and then they called me tonight and I honestly thought they wouldn’t, Hazza, I thought they wouldn’t and I was so scared. But then they _did_ and I’m just so bloody happy.”

And okay, so these are tears of happiness, apparently. Harry is very confused. He ignores his brain in favour of keeping a steady back and forth pressure on Louis’ back.

Once Louis’ calmed down enough to breathe calmly again, Harry gently loosens his grip on him and leans back so he can see his face.

“Want to try telling me again what happened?” He asks, his voice so soft and fond he’d embarrassed if it were anyone else but Louis hearing him.

Louis bites his lip and nods, embarrassed. “Yeah, I just … can we just eat, first? You put so much effort into this I don’t want it to go cold.”

Harry laughs and squeezes Louis’ shoulder before taking his seat again. “You’re too thoughtful, Lou, honestly. But okay, we’ll eat and then you can try telling me again, okay?”

Louis nods shyly. “Yeah, okay.” He takes a bite out of his fajita and his face is practically orgasmic.

“Holy shit, that’s amazing.” His eyes meet Harry’s in astonishment. “You’re a regular Nigella.”

Harry flushes but accepts the compliment. “I’d prefer Jamie Oliver, to be honest. Nigella’s a little too much of an exciting comparison for me to live up to.”

Louis’ face scrunches up adorably. “Fair enough. I like my cooking to come without a side of tabloid drama.”

Harry grins. “God, you’re cute.” His eyes widen and he clamps a hand over his mouth, mortified. “I didn’t actually mean to say that out loud.”

Louis’ responding laughter is like bright like sunshine. “You’re incredible, Harold.” And while his tone may be teasing, his eyes are fonder that Harry’s ever seen them.

 

***

 

True to his word, when Louis and Harry are both done their meals, they dump their plates in the sink and Harry leads Louis over to the couch.

He grabs the throw blanket his sister had given him as a housewarming present from underneath one of the decorative pillows his mother had given him and drapes it over the two of them.

“I’m sorry I was so distracted earlier,” Louis begins, and his voice is quiet and a little bit nervous.

Harry squeezes his hand. “It’s fine, Lou. I could tell something was off with you but I didn’t want to push it.”

Louis gives him a grateful smile. “I really tried to hide it, you know. I was just a disaster before I left my flat. Was driving Zayn up the bloody wall.”

“So what happened, exactly?’

Louis sighs, cuddling in a bit to Harry’s side. “You know I’m in drama, yeah?”

Harry nods, because _obviously_.

“Since I’m in my third year, now’s the time where I have to start figuring out what I’m going to do after I graduate. Our instructors usually set up individual sessions with us to talk about options, and mine was the week before classes started.”

Harry waits patiently for him to continue. “So basically, like, my dream is to be in the West End. Ever since I can remember, it’s been the one thing that I’ve been passionate about like nothing else. Yeah, I loved football, but not enough to dedicate the rest of my life to it.” He lets out a little laugh and Harry feels like his heart is going to burst.

“Did I ever tell you that I took drama lessons in secret during Secondary?” Louis asks, and Harry tries to keep his mouth from dropping open. He had no idea, not even an inkling that even back then Louis had already known what he wanted to do with his life (even if he was too afraid to admit it to anyone else).

Louis giggles. “Yeah, that’s pretty much what everyone else said too, when I told them. For years mum thought I had an extra practice once a week and all my mates thought I was babysitting at home.”

Harry can barely believe the cheek that Louis had to go to secret drama lessons for years, but then again he’s realizing there are a lot of things about Louis that he was completely oblivious to.

“Anyway, the point is that I’ve always known what I wanted, even if it took me a while to admit it to myself, and so when the instructor asked what it was I wanted to be doing next year I just blurted out _RADA_.”

RADA - short for The Royal Academy of Dramatic Art AKA the place that trained almost every big name and well respected actor in the UK. Louis’ face is an endearing shade of red, as though he’s embarrassed about actually going after his dreams. Harry doesn’t think it’s possible for him to be more in love with this boy than he already is.

“I would never even have dreamed of applying before, but three years at Uni here taught me a lot about acting and about how much I love it, and I realized that if I didn’t take a chance now I never would.” He turns to Harry with wide eyes. “I don’t want to be that person who spends their life making all the safe choices only to wind up with a job they hate and a list of regrets.”

Louis looks both sure of himself and terrified at the same time. Harry puts a hand on his shoulder, silently encouraging him to go on.

“I found out that I missed the deadline for applications, and I wanted to cry, but I just figured that was it. I’d already missed my chance. But then my instructor called me earlier today and said that she’d spoken to someone in admissions on my behalf, and they might still be willing to accept my application.”

He pauses and gives Harry a small smile. “That was right after our lunch, Haz, which is why I wasn’t all freaked out then. Anyway, she told me that I would find out by the end of the day, and when it was already getting close to nine o’clock and I hadn’t heard anything I assumed that was it. They weren’t interested in me. But then someone from admissions called and said that they’d looked over some performance footage my instructor had sent them, and that based on her recommendation they were willing to make an exception and audition me anyhow.”

Louis’ eyes are filling with tears, but there’s no way Harry could ever mistake them for sadness this time. The smile on Louis’ face is one of pure unadulterated happiness and Harry feels like he’s staring directly into the sun.

“I can’t believe it,” Louis whispers, his voice awestruck, and Harry reaches sideways to pull him into a hug. It’s maybe not the most romantic, with Louis’ tears wiping off on Harry’s shirt, and the awkward position of their bodies pressed up against each other from the side, but it makes Louis laugh which is all that matters.

“I’m so proud of you, Lou. You absolutely deserve the world.” Harry breathes, and he means every word of it. Louis sniffles and gives Harry a peck on the cheek.

“Thank you.” Louis pauses, looking at Harry curiously. “You’re going to think I’m crazy, but sometimes it feels like I’ve known you forever. I can’t even explain it really.” Louis blushes, eyes dropping to his lap.

Harry feels his heart race, knowing _exactly_ why Louis feels that way. He wonders if maybe he should say something now, even though he has no idea how to start, how to phrase it so Louis doesn’t feel completely betrayed. Before he has a chance to mull it over much more, though, Louis finally brings himself to meet his eyes again.

“I really like you, Haz. Quite a bit.” He bites his lip shyly. “It kind of scares me.”

Harry nods, lost for words. Louis’ being so open with him, so vulnerable, yet Harry’s done nothing but hide the truth about himself. He decides then and there that he’s going to tell Louis. He can’t keep dragging it out. He just needs to come up with a plan so he can reduce the emotional fallout as much as possible.

“I like you too, Lou. So much. And we can go as slow as you want, whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

Louis grins, leaning forward to kiss him gently on the mouth. “I know I want to keep seeing you. And I know I don’t want to see anyone else. Can that be enough for now?”

Harry beams at him. “That’s more than enough.” Harry pauses, his eyes landing on the calendar hanging up on the wall. “I totally forgot to ask, when’s the RADA audition? Did they give you a specific date and time already?”

Louis’s eyebrows furrow adorably. “Early November, I think they said.” His eyes widen abruptly. “Fuck, I’ve gotta call mum.” He bounces up, tripping over the blanket in his haste to get to his phone. Harry laughs and puts a hand around his waist to steady him.

“Do you want some space?” Harry asks, remembering the bathroom incident from before.

Louis shakes his head and gives Harry a dopey look. “Nah, I trust you.”

Harry tries to ignore the pang of guilt in his stomach. He’ll tell him. He will. He just doesn’t know _when_ exactly.

 

***

 

Niall returns home shortly after Louis sent Harry a kissy face emoji and an assurance that he’d made it back to his and Zayn’s flat safely, and that Zayn seemed very enthusiastic about Louis’ newfound cooking ability. Harry hoped it meant cooking together would be a repeat experience.

“So, how’d it go? Did you end up feeding each other bites of fajita or some other sappy shit like that?”

Harry gives Niall the finger from where he’s lying on the couch. “Shut up. And no, but I did get to cuddle on the couch with him for a bit which was nice.”

Niall smirks at him. “Such an animal, Styles.”

Harry grins. “Well, he referred to me as his date when he was on the phone with his mum, so, mock all you want but he’s totally into me.” Harry tries to keep his tone casual, but he feels like someone lit a fireworks display inside his chest.

Niall ruffles Harry’s curls as he goes to sit next to him. “H, that’s brilliant.” He wrinkles his forehead after a moment. “If you were having a date why was he on the phone with his mum?”

Harry snorts. “It’s not as weird as it sounds. He got a phone call with some really good news just before dinner and he wanted to share it with her. They’ve got a really great relationship, it’s kind of adorable.”

Niall rolls his eyes fondly. “He could hold a door open for someone and you’d think it was adorable.” Harry doesn’t bother denying it.

“So what’s the good news, if you don’t mind me asking?” Harry pauses, uncertain if it’s his place to share it.

“I don’t know if he wants to tell anyone else yet, but just trust me that it’s amazing.”

Niall shrugs and flicks on the TV. “He still doesn’t know the truth about you?”

His voice is light, but there’s a seriousness beneath it that makes Harry’s insides crawl. He knows Niall’s right, he’s already come to terms with the fact that he has to tell Louis the truth, but he’s genuinely terrified that Louis won’t want to be with him anymore because of it. He knows it’s maybe irrational, but it’s like the moment of Louis walking on in him back at Harry’s old house is playing on a constant loop in his head, making him feel nauseous.

“I’ll tell him, Ni. I _will_.” Harry bites at a hangnail in an effort distract himself, drawing a bit of blood.

“Just, Zayn was saying - ”

Harry’s head jerks up to stare at Niall, who’s avoiding his gaze. He gets that Zayn’s protective, he does, but he also feels a bit hurt that him and Niall were discussing his relationship with Louis behind their backs. Harry can’t help the defensiveness in his stance, and the frosty tone of his words.

“Zayn shouldn’t have been saying anything to you at all about us.” Harry snaps, and maybe it’s a bit harsh, but he feels like there’s enough pressure on him as it is without Niall piling on a guilt trip too.

Niall seems to sense he’s crossed a line and backs off instantly. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I just worry about you, Harry. I know you’re afraid of what Louis will think, but I’m concerned about how you’ll cope if things go badly.”

Harry sighs, patting Niall’s knee. “I know. Fuck, I _know_.”

Niall gives him a comforting smile. “Just as long as he finds out from you rather than someone else.”

 

***

 

It’s been a full week since Harry’s first class, and he can barely believe how much has changed in such a relatively short span of time. He’s just pulled his hair up into a bun and slipped on his boots when he hears a knock on the front door.

He pulls it open and knows his face must be doing that embarrassingly soft thing Niall likes to poke fun at him for when he sees Louis on the other side holding a tray with take out coffee cups.

“Well, aren’t you going to invite me in?” Louis asks, teasing, and Harry stands back, trying not to fawn over how sweet he is.

“I brought one for Niall too, and then I realized I wasn’t sure what he takes in it so I kept it black.” Louis explains, placing the tray on the table.

Before Harry has a chance to tell him that Niall would probably drink hot piss in the morning so long as it was caffeinated, Louis reaches into his pocket and pulls out a white envelope.

“Oh,” he exclaims, “And before I forget - this was taped on the door for you from the Residence committee or whatever.” He hands Harry a letter with _Harry Twist_ scrawled messily across the front of it.

“Twist, huh?” Louis grins. “You sound like a fairy tale character or something with a last name like that.”

Harry’s mouth drops open, wanting to correct him but also not sure, like, how to do that without giving away everything. He’s spared from having to respond by Niall appearing in the kitchen a moment later in nothing but his boxers.

“Morning H, Lou,” he mumbles dully, scratching at his stomach. Louis hands him one of the take out cups. “Tea?”

Niall’s whole demeanor changes instantly as he takes it. “Bless you.”

He takes a sip and lets out a dreamy sigh. “Never let this one go, yeah?” He says seriously to Harry, who turns bright red.

“Wasn’t planning on it.” He agrees, and he really, _really_ means it.

“I’m just going to use your washroom right quick,” Louis decides, running off before Harry can do much more than nod.

“What’s that?” Niall asks, pointing to the letter still sitting on the table. Harry frowns.

“Letter from the rez committee. They addressed it to Harry Twist again. I really have to call someone about that.”

Niall looks concerned. “Did Louis see it?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, he brought it in for me.”

Niall’s expression quickly morphs into one of alarm. “And he thinks that’s your name? Harry Twist?”

Harry stares at his own cup of tea, his silence is answer enough.

Niall mercifully doesn’t say anything else, just raises his eyebrows and gives Harry a warning _look_ before slipping back into his own room.

Before Harry can over-think it and work himself up into an internal panic, Louis emerges from the bathroom and wraps his arms around Harry from behind.

“Ready to go, love?”

Harry turns around and puts his arm around Louis’ shoulders, a fond look on his face. Louis giggles and pinches Harry’s bum.

“Hey!” Harry cries, his voice higher pitched than he’s used to hearing it.

Louis grins and grabs both of their teas off the table on their way out.

Harry anxiously casts a final backwards glance at the letter sitting on the table, wondering if it’s normal to be have his mood so thoroughly ruined by a stupid piece of paper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is where it gets tricky. I've had some terrible health problems and work stuff lately so I don't know if I'll be able to update again next weekend. I've started the next chapter at least, it just depends on when this stupid flu I've suddenly acquired goes away. It'll take two weeks *at the most* because I really don't like leaving people hanging.
> 
> Also, I'm (painfully) Canadian so while I tried my best to research, there are bound to be errors (with school system stuff etc). I did try to base the RADA stuff around how the actual audition cycles work but I had to fudge it a bit to make it work with the timeline I'm going for. Hopefully it's a tiny enough detail that you can ignore it.
> 
> Thanks again to everyone who's reading this; your comments and kudos really make my day and, despite what Ben Winston might think, I love the fic community we've built here.


	6. VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not gonna lie, I didn't think I'd be able to get this posted tonight so I'm super relieved. I'm crossing my fingers that I can get chapter 7 up by next Sunday too (it's the one I'm most looking forward to writing) but again no promises. Though if someone can lend me Hermione Granger's time turner I would be greatly obliged.

By the time they reach the three week mark together, Harry knows he has to pull his head out of arse and tell Louis the truth. The longer it drags on, the guiltier he feels about it, and the worse he _knows_ the fallout is going to be.

It’s not like he hasn’t tried; They were watching _the Parent Trap_ at Louis and Zayn’s flat not long after the fajita incident and Louis had made an offhand comment about finding out someone close to you has been lying about everything you thought you knew about them. Harry had been on the verge of testing the waters when Louis had started talking about how _devastating_ it would be and how he’d never be able to trust either of his parents again if he was Lindsay Lohan. Harry had very quickly and firmly shut his mouth.

The second time Harry had tried to bring it up, he’d been interrupted by Niall of all people, though their coffee maker bursting into flames certainly seemed a good enough reason as any. Harry still isn’t sure how that had happened, considering neither of them ever actually use the coffee maker, but Harry has a feeling that Ed was probably involved.

It’s already the second week of October, and Harry feels like everyone who passes him by on the street knows that he’s lying and is judging him because of it. The worst part is, Louis is so open about everything and the contrast is painfully apparent to Harry whenever they talk about anything that has to do with their pasts. Harry has never met a less emotionally stunted person in his life, and he’s pretty sure it’s all due to Jay’s obviously stellar parenting despite Louis’ qualms before coming out.

Honestly, outside of Harry’s gut clenching panic whenever anything about his past comes up, his relationship with Louis is definitely the most emotionally stable experience he’s ever had with another guy. Which is why he _knows_ that he needs to fess up, and soon. It’s going to be hard enough keeping (or possibly regaining) Louis’ trust as it is, but at least if Harry’s the one who tells him the truth he can try his best to minimize the damage. God forbid Louis somehow find out from one of his old school mates (Harry’s heard him mention Liam a few times in the month they’ve known each other) or something equally dreadful.

Harry’s starting to have stress dreams about all the terrible ways that Louis could find out the truth, so rather than paying attention during class, he decides to brainstorm a list of the best ways to (gently) break the news to Louis that they _kind of_ already used to know each other.

Also that Louis’ already seen Harry’s dick.

Yeah, Harry is _not_ looking forward to this conversation even a little bit.

He finally decides on softening the blow by starting easy and telling Louis a little more about himself. He’s been careful, playing things close to the vest when it comes to personal details about his past, but he knows it’s time to get over that, and fast.

He texts Louis and tells him to meet him at the main library on campus after class. They normally grab a tea and go back to either of their flats, but Harry doesn’t really want to have this conversation in a place that’s too personal to either of them. The library is neutral, and blessedly quiet most of the time, and it also ties in well to the approach Harry’s decided he’s going to take to break the news to him.

Louis shows up ten minutes late with donuts and an apologetic smile.

“Sorry,” he blurts out immediately upon spotting Harry waiting for him. “Class ran over a bit and I was starving and figured you could use a snack too.”

Harry laughs and takes the box from him. “It’s fine, it’s only ten minutes. And I can promise you I’ll never complain when it means I get donuts.”

Louis grins and gestures to the package. “Half chocolate and half rainbow sprinkle cause I know how much you like those.”

Harry takes a peek inside the box and does his best not to start drooling on the spot. “We’re going to have sneak these in, you know.”

Louis gives him a blank look. “What?”

Harry points to the giant ‘ **NO FOOD OR DRINK IN THE LIBRARY SIGN** ’ hanging on the inside of the window.

Louis’ whole face drops as he frowns. “Well, shit.”

Harry squeezes his shoulder. “It’s okay - I’ve pretty much mastered the art of sneaking snacks into various libraries over the years. I’m like a food ninja.”

Louis giggles and it’s the best sound Harry’s ever heard. “You’re something, alright.”

Harry puts on his best mock-offended look while secretly trying to hide the panic that’s already started bubbling up in his stomach at the mere thought of telling Louis what he’s brought him here to say. “Hush, or else I’ll only sneak in the rainbow ones.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Fine, you’re brilliant, I’m sorry.”

Harry’s smile doesn’t quite meet his eyes, but he does his best not to let it show. He wants Louis to be in as good of a mood as possible before he ruins everything.

Harry looks back and forth in an incredibly over-exaggerated manner before stuffing the box of donuts in his bag and hiding it under a sweater.

“So stealthy, Haz. I’m sure no one found that suspicious at all.”

“I told you, Boo - food ninja.”

Harry gives him a solemn look before holding the door open and gesturing for Louis to go ahead of him.

Louis pecks him on the cheek before rushing inside and making a beeline for the elevators.  Harry watches him for a long moment before he realizes that he’s literally standing still holding a door open for no one and hastily enters the library himself.

He’s sure the security guards will have some fun laughing at that footage later.

 

***

 

Harry chooses to take them to the 8th floor because it’s stocked with physics textbooks and only the most determined nerd ever ventures there after day time classes are over. His suspicions are proved right when they have nearly the entire floor to themselves, but Harry still picks a table in the back surrounded by stacks of boring textbooks filled with math gibberish neither he or Louis can understand.

Once they’re settled in (and Harry’s managed to hide their box of donuts behind a stack of books), Louis props his elbows up on the table and rests his chin in his hands.

“So Haz, this was certainly an interesting choice for a date.” Louis’ eyes are full of mirth, and Harry feels the overwhelming urge to poke him on the nose. So he does.

Louis swats at him, giggling. “Oi, you just got powdered sugar on me!”

Harry reaches across the table and wipes it off with his sleeve. “You’re sweet enough as it is.”

Louis gives him an incredibly over the top eye roll. “You’re so ridiculous, why do I let myself be seen in public with you?”

Harry shrugs, taking a bite of his own donut and squirting strawberry jelly onto his shirt by accident. Louis bursts into laughter at Harry’s affronted look, and Harry soon joins in.

“Aw, babe, it’s a good thing you brought that spare shirt after all.” Louis teases sympathetically. Harry grumbles as he wipes at the (extremely noticeable) red stain on his shirt.

He gives up and ends up just shoving the rest of the donut in his mouth. Louis passes him the sweater and he tugs it on, zipping it up so it covers the spot.

“So Harold, the whole donut disaster interrupted my question. Any particular reason you felt like meeting up at the library today? Have a secret shag-in-public-places kink I don’t know about?”

Harry blushes instantly at Louis’ words because a) his motives are far less fun than that and 2) the thought of getting off _in any capacity_ with Louis in a public library turns him on a lot more than he would have expected. They’d been taking it slow like he and Louis had talked about, not really getting that far past the making out/heavy petting stage, so the mere thought makes his stomach coil.

Louis had clearly meant it in jest, but his own eyes darken in response to Harry’s reaction. Harry mentally slams on the brakes, knowing he brought Louis here for a reason, a _serious_ reason, and it’s not fair to either of them if he derails the conversation so they can start pawing at each other.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “No, it’s actually a little more, um, serious, I guess?”

Whatever fire had been lit in Louis’ eyes extinguishes instantly at the word serious only to be quickly replaced with concern.

“Did something happen?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, it’s nothing bad, I promise. I just, um, realized that, like, you’ve been so amazing and open about who you are and your past and everything but there’s so much about me you don’t know.”

Rather than looking relieved, Louis looks even more concerned now. “What are you talking about, Haz?”

“Like, you know the bare bones about my life before we met. You know I’m from Cheshire, and that I have a sister - “

“Jennifer,” Louis interrupts solemnly, and Harry suddenly feels even worse because Louis sounds so certain about it and has clearly done his best to remember her name and it isn’t even true.

Harry had been feeding Louis scraps about his life before they met, knowing it would seem weird if he just never talked about his life from the ages of 14-18, but even then he’d been very careful to keep things vague. Of course the one name he let slip by accident would be a lie, and of course it would be the one that Louis remembers.

Harry pushes forward, choosing not to comment.

“- And you know that my dad left when I was little and my mum got remarried a few years ago, but I feel like I haven’t been fair to you when it comes to details. You’ve shared so much with me, and it didn’t seem fair to you to get so little in return. So, um, that’s why we’re here.”

Louis’ eyebrows furrow in confusion. “You didn’t, like, write a book did you? Are you secretly famous or something?”

Harry can’t help the laugh that escapes. “No, I didn’t, I promise. It just seemed like a fitting environment, you know?”

Louis shakes his head. “Not really. But I guess that’s the point of all this.” His voice darkens a bit, like he’s not sure whether to be flattered that Harry’s finally inviting him in or hurt that he’s apparently been keeping so much from him.

Harry bites his lip, suddenly doubting whether or not this is a good idea. He hasn’t even told him anything of substance yet and Louis’ already acting weird. He decides to just push forward and see what happens.

“Um, so I told you a bit about me when we first met, yeah?”

Louis nods. “Yeah, you told me you didn’t really have a lot of friends in school outside of Niall and your sister.”

Harry gives him a small smile, still incredibly nervous about what he’s going to say but happy that even during their first real talk Louis had clearly been paying attention.

“Yeah, so the library at school was basically my safe space. I didn’t get bullied or anything, really, but people didn’t really pay me any attention either. I always felt like I was kind of just _there_ , at school. Especially after Niall was gone - ”

Louis cuts him off. “What do you mean, what happened to Niall?”

And shit. Right. Harry hadn’t actually told him that he’d transferred schools in the middle of secondary. Whoops.

“I changed schools when I was 14, and Niall and I were obviously still best mates but we couldn’t see each other during the day anymore. It just made everything lonelier, I guess. I went from spending all my time with one person to suddenly just sort of floating through the halls in between classes.” Harry doesn’t mean for it to come out so depressing, though he guesses his morbid tone of voice and slow speech probably make things sound even worse than they were.  Sure, he hadn’t exactly enjoyed school, but he hadn’t hated it either. Louis looks a bit heartbroken regardless.

Harry plows on, trying to lighten the mood. “Don’t look so sad, it’s a good thing, I promise.” Louis obviously doesn’t believe him, but he stays quiet regardless.

“So yeah, I ended up spending all of my spare time in the library, and I don’t know if it’s just because my new school was posher than the old one or what, but they had the most amazing and comprehensive selection of books I’d ever seen. I’d always liked reading, but hadn’t really had a lot of time for it before. Niall was super into video games, and Gems - ” he stutters on the nickname, quickly racing forward with the rest of the sentence and hoping Louis misheard it as _Jen_ “- always wanted to watch movies and stuff with me instead, but suddenly I had all of this time and all of these cool things to read.”

Harry knows he’s smiling as he reminisces, but he can’t be bothered to hide his super nerd. It’s a huge part of who he is, after all, which is kind of the point of this whole excursion, to introduce Louis to the _Real Harry_ and all that.

He catches Louis trying to hide a smile too, and his eyes are incredibly fond. Harry trudges onward. “Anyway, I told you that I was kind of directionless after I graduated, right? I took a gap year, worked in a coffee shop in Manchester and tried to figure out my life.”

Louis nods, because that’s one part of Harry’s past that he’s definitely familiar with. Most of the stories Harry has shared with him were from that year of soul searching, because it’s what had had the most impact on him, and it was _safe_. There was nothing that could be tied back to his old life.

“I was working late one night and a customer had packed up everything to go but left the book they’d been reading on the table. I grabbed it and tried to catch them before they left but it was too late. Anyway, something about the cover caught my eye and I realized it was one of the first books I’d stumbled on back when I was at my new school. _Don’t laugh_ , but it was a compilation of poems by Charles Bukowski. I just sat there for the rest of my shift, flipping through them and smiling and remembering how my awkward fourteen year old self had so desperately needed something to relate to, and that book had been it. Looking at it again years later, I couldn’t believe how pretentious I’d been, but at the time I’d thought I’d found the meaning of life in those pages.”

Louis doesn’t laugh, bless him, but he does press his lips together firmly to keep back a smirk.

“Anyway,” Harry continues pointedly, “it made me so happy to sit there and just remember what it felt like to connect to something like that. It made me realize that just existing in Manchester without any purpose or direction wasn’t what I wanted. So I made the decision that night that I was going to go back to school. I looked up a bunch of different programs when I got home and settled on law. I’d always been fascinated by it, but I was always too afraid to try, terrified that I wasn’t smart enough or good enough or tough enough. But I wanted that feeling of connection that I’d lost, and I knew that was the only way I’d get it back. And that’s how I ended up here.”

Harry feels a little flutter of pride in his chest, remembering how freeing it had felt to finally make the decision to do something he was excited about with his life. He looks up at Louis to a see a similar look on his face, and he feels a warm glow ignite in his chest.

“So that’s why we met? Out of all of the possible things that could have brought us together, it ended up being a forgotten book of Charles Bukowski’s poetry? Remind me to send him a thank you note.”

Harry bites back a grin. “He’s dead, Lou, but I’m sure he appreciates the sentiment nonetheless.”

Louis makes a face. “Oops. Well, still, maybe I’ll sit down and google some of his poems then.” He smiles at Harry. “Maybe you could recommend me some, now that I know how deep and in touch with the human condition you are.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Says the drama major.”

Louis leans across the table to kiss him quickly. “Yeah, I guess we are pretty well matched, aren’t we?”

Harry’s pretty sure the smile he’s holding back could take on the sun.

 

***

 

Even though he hasn’t actually gotten to the whole ‘ _hey, I masturbated to pictures of you when I was fourteen and you walked in on me_ ’ bit of the conversation yet, Harry feels remarkably calmer now that he’s shared something deep and honest about himself with Louis. He’d felt uncomfortable about the imbalance for pretty much the entire duration of time they’ve known each other, but it feels like they’re on a slightly more even footing now.

That is, of course, until Louis decides to bring up past relationships. Namely because Harry doesn’t actually have any.

He’d dated a bit in Manchester, nothing ever really going anywhere and flaming out quickly, but he doesn’t know how much Louis wants to hear about that. He’s fully prepared to just brush it off and let Louis speak when he realizes that would put him exactly back where he started. He’d vowed to be more honest, and he can’t fuck that all up now just because he’s a little uncomfortable.

“I didn’t, um … I’ve never really had a, like, serious relationship or anything.” Harry finally volunteers, trying not to let his face get too red. He’s never been ashamed by his lack of experience when it comes to dating and things like that, but he can’t help but feel a tad embarrassed.

Even back when they’d first known each other, Louis was in a two year long relationship (with a girl no less). Harry can only imagine that he has a much more impressive dating resume now, but he’s not actually sure he wants to hear it.

Louis gives him a smile. “You don’t have to look so afraid of my reaction, Harold. You know I’d never judge you or anything like that, right? Especially because it’d make me a massive fucking hypocrite.”

Harry looks at him in surprise. “What?”

Now it’s Louis’ turn to flush. “I’m sort of the opposite of you, I guess, in that I’ve never casually dated. I’ve always gone from relationship to relationship, and I don’t think any of them were all that healthy.”

Harry thinks about Zayn’s warning that first night the four of them had hung out together. He wants to know who hurt Louis, but he doesn’t want to overstep or make him uncomfortable. He settles on trying to keep a casual tone. “You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to. I don’t want to push you.”

Louis laughs. “God, nothing that bad. I’ve never been properly in love or anything before, so any shit that happened with the guys I was dating hurt my pride more than anything.” Louis laughs, and the mood lifts instantly.

“You realize I’m going to need to hear these stories now, yeah?” Harry prompts teasingly. Louis makes a face but obliges anyway.

“Let’s see, there was Aiden, who I dated for four months or so in my first year. He was the other lead in the school play and we were spending all of our time together rehearsing and getting to know each other, so it only made sense that we’d sort of carry it over into our personal lives. I thought things were going great until I walked in on him and my understudy in the dressing room the night the play premiered. Let’s just say I was definitely able to deliver quite the emotional punch that night onstage.” Louis doesn’t seem all that affected by the memory judging by the smirk on his face.

Harry can’t believe how easygoing Louis seems to be about getting cheated on right before one of the most important performances of his life, but at the same time he kind of can. Louis’ clearly grown a lot since Harry first knew him, and in addition to just letting himself be himself, he’s clearly developed the admirable ability to shake things off with a sense of humour.

Louis shoots Harry a knowing smile before continuing. “Then most recently there was Nick. He was the hotshot school DJ and he spent, like, months taunting me on air and making jabs at my role in the play. It was only when I finally snapped one day and confronted him about it that I realized it was his weird way of flirting with me.”

Harry lets out a stunned laugh, quickly clapping his hands over his mouth. Louis beams at him adorably. “I should have realized then that it wasn’t meant to be. Any relationship that started out on such _aggressively_ rocky footing was doomed to fail. We basically spent more of our time together bickering than we did, you know, actually _enjoying_ each other’s company. We broke up right before the summer and I haven’t really looked back since.”

His eyes land on Harry, and the warmth in them makes his heart stutter. “And then there’s you, of course, my dear sweet Harold.”

Harry does his best to fight back the grin that’s threatening to overtake his face, but he can’t quite shake the weird niggling thought in the back of his mind that Louis’ leaving out a pretty major relationship.

He’d been with Hannah for two whole years, and whether he knew at the time that he was gay or not, that seemed like a pretty significant thing to just ignore. Besides, Zayn had made it sound like there was something in Louis’ past that actively bothered him, and as unfortunate as Louis’ past university dating woes had been, they didn’t really seem to fit the bill.

Harry knows that if he doesn’t ask now, he may never, and it’s something he’s been curious about since he and Louis reconnected. He decides to just put the question out there and see what happens.

“What about secondary?”

The lingering smile on Louis’ face slides off, leaving his expression weirdly blank. ‘What?”

Harry’s never so immediately regretted a decision before. But now that’s he asked, he kind of has to follow up or else it’ll seem weird.

“Oh, I just, um, was wondering about secondary and sixth form and stuff. You weren’t out, I know, but did you still date or anything?”

Louis looks down at his hands rather than answering.

“I’m sorry, Louis, I didn’t mean to make things weird. I was genuinely just curious but I clearly crossed some sort of line and - ”

Louis takes pity on Harry and finally looks up at him with a tiny smile. “Yeah, I was with someone for two years. Her name was Hannah.” Louis’ smile becomes more bittersweet than anything, and Harry can tell he’s wading back into his memories a bit.

“We’d been friends for ages, and then when we were both 14 it just sort of turned into a relationship. I don’t really remember any concrete moments that led to it happening, but suddenly we were holding hands and kissing and people were giving us these looks and I realized that we had somehow wound up in a relationship.’

Louis pauses, playing with a tear in his jeans. “It’s weird, because it was probably the healthiest relationship I’ve ever been in, and it’s the only one that I wish I could undo.”

Harry frowns, alarmed by the tone in his voice. “Why?”

Louis laughs, but it’s full of sharp edges. “I keep thinking that maybe if I’d just realized I was gay sooner, things could have been different.”

Harry swallows. “But it’s not like you could even have dated anyone, could you? What difference would it have made?”

Louis’ eyes meet his, and the heaviness in his gaze makes Harry do a double take.

“There was this boy, yeah? And I’d never really spent a lot of time with him or anything, we weren’t in the same year, but there was something about him that just sort of … I don’t know how to explain it, but he was magnetic. He just pulled me in and I kept catching myself thinking about him. I thought at the time that maybe we just clicked really well, and maybe it meant we should be friends or something, but looking back, it’s so _obvious_ that I was attracted to him.”

Harry feels a completely irrational shock of jealousy. He’s not sure his 14 year old heart can take much more damage.

“Did you ever tell him how you felt? Like later, when you came out and stuff?”

Louis laughs, but it’s a sad sound. “Never got the chance. I had this huge and utterly terrifying gay awakening because of this boy and then he was just … gone. I broke up with Hannah, of course, it wasn’t fair to her to keep stringing her along, but I couldn’t stomach dating anyone else for the final two years of school. I just felt really lost, and confused, but weirdly okay with myself at the same time. Does that make any sense?”

Harry nods, but his mind is kind of on autopilot because he’s stuck on the whole ‘ _Louis had unrequited feelings for another bloke_ ’ bit. Louis starts talking again before Harry can dwell on his thoughts for much longer.

“It’s a huge part of the reason I changed how I pronouced my name, actually. I felt like I had to reclaim it. I wanted to break away from the lie I was hiding behind and just start over. That’s why I acted so weirdly a few weeks ago, by the way. I haven’t heard that name since I started uni here and it just made me feel sick. I know it’s irrational and sensitive but …”

Harry reaches across the table and takes his hand. “Louis, you are one of the strongest people I’ve ever met, okay? If I ever catch you calling yourself anything other than exceptional and brilliant I’m going to force you to listen to me complimenting you for an hour.”

Louis grins with eye crinkles and everything, and Harry feels his heart clench.

“So, that’s the story of my tragic gay awakening.” Louis pauses, his eyes lighting up. “It’s funny, he had the same name as you, too. Maybe I just have a weird thing for blokes called Harry.”

Louis smiles like he hasn’t just _blown_ Harry’s entire world into tiny pieces. He miraculously manages to not vomit on the spot, but he’s pretty sure cardiac arrest isn’t a far off possibility.

“His name was Harry?” He chokes out, and Louis nods.

“Yeah, he was my mate’s younger brother. There’s actually a reason why I never tried to find him after, why we never kept in touch, but it’s kind of embarrassing.”

Harry can only stare at him with wide eyes. No way. Fuck. There is no fucking way that _Louis Tomlinson_ had felt the same way about him all those years ago. What the fuck?

Harry remembers with vivid clarity the look on Louis’ face when he’d walked in on him, he remembers how Louis had avoided him for weeks, and more than anything Harry remembers the feeling of his heart _shattering in a million pieces_ because of how thoroughly he’d been rejected.

He needs more. He needs some kind of explanation. He needs, like, _closure_ or something.

“I’m sure it can’t have been that embarrassing,” Harry manages to get out, his voice miraculously even.

Louis frowns. “Trust me, it was. I wanted to die.”

Well, if that’s not an opening to keep asking questions Harry doesn’t know what is.

“What happened?”

Louis’ face turns bright red. “I, um, kind of walked in on him getting off?” Harry can’t even imagine what his face must look like. He’s bracing himself for the absolute worst. Louis takes Harry’s silence as a prompt to explain himself.

“It’s not like I was being weird or anything, I didn’t just barge in with the intention of acting like a creep. I was hanging out with his sister and she told me to grab a film from her room and I heard a muffled shouting noise. I thought he’d hurt himself or something, so I acted without thinking and yeah … it was basically the most embarrassing day of my life. I can’t even believe I’m telling you this right now.”

Harry’s basically still in shock, is the thing. So not only had Louis not actually heard Harry calling his name, but he clearly also hadn’t seen the pictures of him on his laptop. And to top it off, Louis was the one who thought he was in the wrong and was still blaming himself after all this time. Shit, had Harry ever misread _that_ situation poorly.

But then, why had Louis acted like that? Why had he ignored him and acted like he didn’t exist for weeks on end?

“It’s really not that bad, Lou, seriously. Imagine if it’d been the other way around.” Harry mostly means it as an offhand comment (though he still thinks he’d prefer being on the voyeur end rather than the one caught wanking) but Louis’ face gets even redder, if possible.

“You don’t understand, Haz,” Louis looks completely mortified. “I got _hard_.”

And oh. Oh. _Oh._

Jesus.

Suddenly everything makes a lot more sense.

Louis hadn’t run away because he was disgusted by Harry, he’d literally gotten hard just watching him get off. 14 year old Harry Styles had been a much saucier minx than he’d realized.

So Louis avoiding him, and then only actually attempting to speak to him once right before Harry moved - He must have been humiliated.

Harry’s plans to tell Louis the truth now come crashing down around him as he’s filled with a fierce (and yes, maybe a bit irrational) self-loathing. Even though the logical part of him knows that it’s not really his fault, that he’d interpreted things as best as he could all those years ago, he can’t help but feel angry and ashamed that he’d brushed off Louis’ one and only attempt at talking before leaving forever and (conceivably) never seeing each other again.

The thought of telling Louis the truth _now_ is too much. He needs to leave. He needs space to think and wallow and beat himself up a little bit. He’s still going to tell Louis the truth, _of course he is_ , but he needs time to reevaluate things.

He needs to talk to Niall.

Louis’ looking at him with wide eyes, and Harry realizes he’s just confessed this huge secret to him, one that’s haunted him since he was sixteen years old, and Harry’s basically not said a thing.

He pushes his own anguish down and stands up to pull Louis into a hug.

“Thank you for sharing that with me, I know it wasn’t easy. I know you don’t believe me, but I think you’re so strong.”

Louis presses his face into Harry’s neck, and Harry can feel that his eyes are wet. “You make me strong,” he murmurs, sagging completely against Harry’s body.

Harry wants to throw up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. That happened. I know this chapter was a bit (and by a bit I mean very) dialogue heavy, but the next chapter is a nice change of pace (I'm trying so hard to stay neutral in these notes btw I'm so tempted to foreshadow but I'm going to control myself).


	7. VII

Once he’s sure that Louis’ okay and isn’t going to feel like he’s being abandoned, Harry gives him a kiss and promises that he’ll call him later that night. Louis leaves with a smile on his face, and Harry, by contrast, wants to cry.

He’s amazed he did such a good job hiding his volatile emotional state, to be honest, because the moment he gets inside the door of his flat he breaks down. It’s not even a proper breakdown; there’s a lot of panicked gasping for air and needing to curl up in the fetal position as his mind tricks him into thinking the world as he knows it is over.

Niall comes home and finds him buried underneath a pile of blankets on the couch.

“H, you okay?” he asks, his tone cautious. Harry speaks, and his voice comes out cracked and dry.

“No. No, I don’t think I am.” He mumbles, and Niall’s face immediately pulls into an expression of concern.

He kneels down next to the couch, looking Harry directly in the eye unwaveringly. “What happened? Is it Louis?”

And of course, Niall would just _know_. Harry just nods, not bothering to put a facade, knowing it’s not worth it.

“Harry, mate, you have to tell me what happened,” Niall urges, the concern in his voice edging on frantic.

“We talked,” Harry begins. “It didn’t go well.” Niall’s eyes widen.

“Did he break up with you after you told him the truth? That bastard - ”

Harry cuts him off before he can trash Louis any further. “No, stop. He still doesn’t know.”

Niall looks perplexed, his blue eyes narrowing in confusion. “Well then, I don’t understand. What could he have possibly said to make you into, you know, _this_?” Niall gestures to Harry in his current blanket burrito state. Harry sighs.

“Turns out my feelings for Louis back in Secondary weren’t so one-sided after all.”

Niall gapes at him. “Wait, you mean…?”

Harry nods. “Not only did he _not_ hear me calling his name when he walked in on me wanking, he told me he was ashamed because _he_ got hard too.”

Niall’s eyeballs look like they’re on the verge of popping out of his head. “But wait, I thought you said he doesn’t know the truth.”

“He doesn’t. Not really. We got on the subject of past relationships and I was trying to dig about Hannah but he ended up admitting that he secretly had feelings for another bloke even when he was dating her and, _surprise_ , turns out that bloke is me.”

“So you just, like, pretended you had no idea what or who he was talking about the whole time?” Niall asks in disbelief. Harry nods, face red.

“Damnit, H, that was the perfect chance to tell him the truth!”

And yes, Harry’s perfectly aware of that, thank you very much. He’d just been a little bit too busy feeling emotionally bowled over to use the situation to his advantage. He still can’t quite believe it if he’s being honest.

“You don’t understand, Niall. He looked so ashamed. I think I’m the first person outside of Zayn he’s ever told that too. He thought 14 year old me _wasn’t interested_ , can you believe it? We were both avoiding each other because we were humiliated and embarrassed and I just got so irrationally upset with myself, you know? I feel like I wasted all this time because I’d jumped to conclusions when really Louis was just as into me as I was into him.” Harry pauses, staring at his hands. “I needed to process things, you know? It’s kind of overwhelming to realize you’ve been so completely _wrong_ about something so important for such a long time.”

Niall nods, playing with Harry’s curls in that way he knows will soothe him. “You’re right. That is a bit of a bombshell. And I guess you had to hide your reaction from Louis too?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, and it was terrible. He was being so open with me, and so vulnerable, and my internal freak out almost made him think I wasn’t supportive, or like, was judging him or whatever.”

Niall rubs his hand up and down Harry’s back. “Is he okay now, though?”

“Yeah, I made sure of it. I basically lasted until I got home before I had, like, a full on panic attack about it.” Harry bites his lip. “I told him I’d call him tonight.”

Niall looks at him regretfully, and Harry can already tell what he’s going to say. “You still have to tell him. You know that, right?”

Harry takes a deep breath but doesn’t answer. Of course he does. And of course, now that he’s made things even worse in the whole ‘ _withholding the truth_ ’ department, Louis’ going to be even more pissed when he finds out Harry’s been lying to him.

“H, It’s even worse if he finds out from someone else now. He may never forgive you.”

Harry rolls over so he’s facing the back of the couch, knocking Niall’s hand away. “I will, okay? I will. I just need to deal with my own shit first.”

Niall sighs, but Harry knows it’s not directed at him. “I’m here if you need to talk,” he says, with a final tousle of Harry’s curls.

Harry grunts his acknowledgment and does his best to fall asleep, not wanting to listen to the voices yelling at him in his head just yet.

He’ll come up with a plan to tell Louis, and it’ll be brilliant. Louis means too much to him to let what they have go down in flames because of something as stupid as this.

 

***

 

It’s not until he’s on the phone with Louis later that night that he finally comes up with a plan. Louis’ trying to talk over the sound of the TV in the background as Zayn watches reruns of old episodes of _Downton Abbey_.

Louis’ muttering something about hitting Zayn over the head with the remote when the audio abruptly changes and Harry can hear a beautiful guitar and piano melody coming from the background.

Louis goes silent for a moment, softly humming along to the song before making an embarrassed noise and realizing he’s been silent for the past few seconds.

“Sorry, I love that song. Haven’t seen the film in ages, either.”

“What film?” Harry asks, curious. Louis pauses, and Harry can hear the blush in his voice. “Um, _Once_? You know the little indie one set in Ireland about two musicians who’ve just met?”

The premise does sound vaguely familiar, but Harry presses for more detail. “Is that what the song you were humming is from.”

He can just picture Louis nodding on the other end of the phone. “Yeah, it’s called _Falling Slowly_. My mum used to always sing it to the twins when they were younger if they wouldn’t settle down.”

“Do you think I’d like it?” Harry asks, charmed by how much Louis genuinely seems to love it and wanting him to stop sounding so embarrassed about it.

“Yeah, I mean, I’d have to break up with you if you didn’t.” Louis deadpans. “I think you would, though. It’s … sweet. They’re actually putting on a stage version of it in the West End. That’s what the advert was for.”

Much as he tries his best to hide it, Harry can hear the yearning in Louis’ voice and comes up with an idea. He’s going to get them tickets to the show, and he’s going to take Louis on the best date of his life. Then, - after they’re both tired out and happy - Harry will tell Louis the truth.

If their relationship is about to go up in flames, the least Harry can do is take Louis out on a truly spectacular date before destroying everything.

 

***

 

Harry rings up Zayn after Louis says he’s going to go to bed a bit early, still tired out from his emotional confession in the library earlier that day.

Zayn answers on the second ring, his voice monotone save for the sliver of disbelief Harry can hear breaking through.

“Harry? Are you sure you called the right number?”

Harry tries not to dwell on the fact that he knows Niall would have gotten a much warmer reception.

“Hi Zayn. Yeah, I’m sure I meant to call you.” He pauses, not really sure how to continue now that he actually has Zayn on the line. “I, um, kind of wanted to ask you a favour.”

The line stays silent as Zayn waits for Harry to spit it out. Harry tries not to sound too nervous.

“I want to take Louis out on a date on Friday, but I want it to be a surprise.”

“What do you want me to do?” Zayn asks, his voice flat but not uninterested over the line.

“I want to surprise him with tickets to a show on the West End, but I don’t want him to know about it until we’re about to go inside. I want to take him out for dinner first anyhow, so I was thinking maybe you could pretend you want to go grab dinner with him and then I’ll meet you at the restaurant?”

Harry’s heart is rabbiting away in his chest. He has no reason to think Zayn would turn him down, and yet he still finds it hard to get a good read on him.

Zayn’s voice is full of unexpected warmth when he responds. “That sounds great, mate. I’m sure Lou will love it.”

Harry breathes out a sigh of relief and sags forward on the couch. “Fantastic, seriously.”

Harry’s about to say he’ll call him later in the week to arrange the details when Zayn speaks up again.

“Louis told me what you did for him today, and I just wanted to say thank you.”

Harry freezes, waiting for Zayn to continue. “He’s always so great with helping other people figure out their shit, but it’s hard for him to trust people to do the same for him. You’re the only other person he’s ever told about that aside from me.”

Harry wonders if he’s still breathing.

“It’s my pleasure,” he finally chokes out. “I don’t like seeing him hurt, Zayn. I hope you know that.”

Zayn sighs over the phone. “I know, Harry. It’s just … you didn’t see him before. He’s come a really long way, and he’s in such a good place now. I know I can be a bit overprotective, but like, he’s my best mate.”

And Harry’s grateful, he really is, but he can’t help the pang in his heart at the thought of what Zayn will say to him when (if) he breaks Louis’ heart with his confession.

“I’m so glad he’s got a friend like you,” Harry settles for saying, both because it’s true, and because the thought of hearing Zayn say more is like a knife to the heart.

“I’ll call you later so we can work out the details, yeah?” Zayn asks, and Harry agrees quickly before hanging up.

“Shit,” he mutters to himself, quickly scrolling over to the browser on his mobile and looking up ticket prices.

 

***

 

Harry gets a call from Zayn five minutes before he and Louis are due to arrive at the restaurant.

Harry, who’s been sitting at a cafe across the street for the past half hour, answers on the first ring, his voice a cross between eager and nervous.

“We’ll be there soon. Louis still thinks I’m just taking him out for tacos.”

Harry breathes out a laugh. “Good. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he realizes something’s up, then.”

He can picture Zayn grinning on the other end. “Me neither, mate. Anyway I’ve gotta go back before he gets suspicious.”

Harry hangs up and walks across the street, aware of how much fancier he looks than usual as he pushes open the door to the French restaurant he’d gotten a reservation for them at.

The hostess shows him to a quiet candle-lit table in the corner, and he’s just sat down and taken a cursory glance through the menu when he spots Louis and Zayn striding up to the door. Harry had been too preoccupied with planning out their date to think about what Louis would be wearing, and he feels his mouth go dry with want as his eyes comb over Louis’ body, taking in the fitted blazer he’s paired with his usual black skinny jeans. Louis normally sports at least a little bit of scruff, but he’s clean-shaven today, and Harry stares at the hollows of his cheekbones like they’re on display at a museum. To put it simply, Louis looks _gorgeous_. Harry kind of wants to cry.

While he can’t hear what’s being said, Louis is gesticulating wildly, his face the picture of confusion. Zayn looks like he’s barely holding it together, though Harry can’t exactly blame him;  Louis is no doubt incredibly baffled as to why Zayn is taking him out to a romantic French restaurant for dinner rather than Mexican food.

By the time Zayn pushes open the door and ushers Louis inside, Harry can feel his palms sweating. He adjusts the collar of his button up and locks his eyes on Louis, waiting for him to see him.

The moment Louis’s eyes finally land on Harry, it’s like the noise in the restaurant ceases to exist in Harry’s head. Louis freezes, his eyes going comically round. Harry can see Zayn laughing out of the corner of his eye, but his focus is entirely on his adorably overwhelmed boyfriend, who looks like he’s about to pass out.

He gets up, stepping around the table and holding a hand out for him.

“Hi babe,” he greets, tugging a still stunned Louis towards him and into a hug.

“I …. what?” Louis sputters, pulling back a bit and just staring at Harry with the bluest eyes he’s ever seen.

Harry giggles. “Surprise?”

Louis gapes at him a moment longer before lightly punching him in the arm and then falling into Harry’s arms. “You bastard! I was wondering why Zayn wanted me to dress up. He normally never gives a shit what I’m wearing.”

Harry smiles and presses a kiss to the top of Louis’ head. “Yeah, I might’ve roped him into helping me a bit.”

Speaking of Zayn, they both look up when he lets out a not-so-subtle cough. “Now that you two are sorted, I think I’ll be off.”

Zayn winks at Harry, which Louis seems to find equal parts hysterical and annoying. “Oi, not yet, mate.” He squeezes Harry’s arm gently before throwing himself at Zayn, hugging him so tightly Harry wonders if he can still breathe.

“Thank you,” Harry hears him mutter under his breath. Zayn responds by ruffling his hair and laughing when Louis squawks.

“You’re welcome, Boo.” He turns his attention to Harry. “Have fun, yeah? Don’t get him home too late.”

Harry rolls his eyes fondly at Zayn’s tone. “No promises.” He pauses. “And thanks again, for like, everything, basically.”

Zayn grins. “You’re welcome. Can’t wait to hear what Louis thinks of part two.”

Louis’ head jerks up to meet Harry’s gaze. “There’s a part two?” He turns back around to badger Zayn some more about it but he’s already gone. Louis stares after him open-mouthed as Harry takes his hand and guides him back over to their table.

“Let’s have a seat, yeah? I think we’ve scared off the waitstaff.” Louis huffs but can’t hide the massive grin threatening to break out across his face as he takes the seat across from him, his feet immediately going to tangle with Harry’s under the table.

“How long have you been planning this?”

Harry shrugs, trying to look as blasé as possible. “A couple of days.” He feels Louis’ hand slip into his on top of the table and he looks up to see Louis’ looking at him with soft eyes and the sweetest smile on his face.

“I’m so lucky to have met you, Harry Twist.” Harry’s heart thumps awkwardly in his chest as he’s reminded of the purpose of this outing all over again. He does his best to plaster on a convincing smile.

“The pleasure’s all mine, Louis Tomlinson.”

 

***

 

After an absolutely incredible dinner and a few glasses of wine, Louis is positively giggly, clutching onto Harry’s arm from his new spot directly next to Harry at the table.

“But you want it! I know you do!” Louis’ voice is indignant and a bit slurred, and Harry thinks he should probably cut off their alcohol supply now if they’re going to be able to properly concentrate on the show later.

“Yeah, I do, but it costs way more than I’m willing to pay for a brownie.”

Louis looks like Harry’s just insulted his entire ancestry. “But …. but it’s a double chocolate brownie with mocha shavings! It’s proper posh, Harry, it has to be expensive!”

Harry is so endeared by Louis’s drunken insistence, but he still refuses to pay that much for a dessert on principle. Unless, of course … “Do you wanna split it with me, Lou? If there’s two of us eating it I can mostly justify the price to myself.”

Louis looks at Harry like he’s just solved the world’s hardest maths problem. “We can share it?”

It’s not fair that drunk Louis is so cute, it’s really not. Harry mostly just cries about the ending of _Titanic_ to anyone who’ll listen when _he’s_ drunk.

“We can definitely share it.”

Louis beams at him, reaching for his empty wine glass and frowning when there’s nothing left. Harry puts a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from ordering another one when he sees the waitress wandering over. “I need you to sober up a bit before the next part of the surprise, okay?”

Louis pouts. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fiiiiiiine.”

Harry leans forward. “Trust me, Boo Bear. It’ll be worth it.”

Louis thinks it over seriously before nodding. “Okay.”

He looks up at the waitress with maybe the most charming smile Harry’s ever seen. “This is my boyfriend. He planned this whole date as a surprise for me but now I’m not supposed to drink anymore so can I have a water please? Oh, and we want to share one of your posh brownies.”

The waitress looks like she’s just barely holding back a grin, giving him a nod. Louis winks at Harry. “See look, I’m being responsible.”

Harry squeezes his hand, trying not to blush as the waitress looks back and forth between them fondly before going to put in their order. “Yes you are. I’m very impressed.”

Louis plants a smacking kiss right in the middle of Harry’s forehead. “As you should be. I am rather impressive.”

 

***

 

By the time the bill comes, Louis’ mostly back to his normal self, although he’s definitely a lot more relaxed than he’d been earlier. He also hasn’t bothered moving back to the seat across from table, opting instead to lean against him and nuzzle his face in Harry’s neck every so often.

“So, do I get to know what the mysterious next part of this surprise date is?” He asks as Harry puts money down on the table. Harry pretends to think about it seriously before shaking his head.

“Nope. But I will say that I’m pretty sure you’ll love it.”

Louis raises his eyebrows. “Haz, you could take me to Ikea and I’d be overjoyed. This is so lovely and I’m pretty sure I don’t deserve it.”

Harry frowns. “Lou, you deserve everything. Please don’t put yourself down.”

Louis laughs. “I’m only joking, love.”

“Well, still. I just … I don’t know, you’ve worked so hard and now you have your RADA audition in two weeks and I wanted to do something to celebrate.”

Louis grins, his eye crinkling. “You’re something else, Harold.”

“Something great, I hope.”

Louis leans forward to kiss him, his eyes warm. “The best.”

And if Harry has to look down at the table to hide the sinking feeling in his gut at Louis’ words, no one else has to know.

 

***

 

“Okay, seriously Hazza. Where are you taking me?”

While Louis had been intrigued by the scarf Harry had insisted he wrap around his head to cover his eyes at first, the feeling hadn’t lasted long.

Now he’s grumbling as Harry pulls him down the busy London street beside him, trying his best not to laugh at the look on Louis’ face.

“It’s just around the corner, love, I promise.”

Louis pouts. “If I wake up in a bathtub somewhere with my kidney missing, I won’t hesitate to kick your arse.”

Harry lets out an obnoxious snort of a laugh, too amused to bother being embarrassed. “Jesus, Lou, this is supposed to be fun, not lead to you accusing me of selling your organs on the black market.”

Louis mutters something about curls and deception before Harry’s finally had enough and yanks Louis the last few feet forward.

“Okay, you knob, we’re here.”

Louis’ mouth gapes open as Harry pulls the scarf off his head, revealing a pair of flashing indignant blue eyes.

“Did you just call me a knob - “ he starts to say, but his words die abruptly in his throat as he finally realizes where Harry’s taken him.

“Fuck.” he blurts out.

Harry grins, taking in the shell shocked look on his face. “Always so eloquent, Lou.”

Louis continues gaping, his only reaction being attempting to awkwardly elbow Harry without actually tearing his eyes away from the marquee of the Phoenix Theatre.

“You bastard. I can’t believe it.”

Harry lets Louis stare at the giant ‘ _Once_ ’ sign hanging next to the door in shock for another few seconds before grabbing his hand.

“Come on, I want to have time to look around the theatre a bit before the show starts.” Harry pulls the tickets out of his back pocket, dragging a still stunned Louis over to the back of the queue to get inside.

Louis doesn’t properly snap out of it until they’ve made it past the ticket collector and are standing in the lobby surrounded by men and women in much fancier dress than they are.

Sure, Harry had made an effort, as had an unknowing Louis, but still. Harry tugs at his brightly knitted scarf self-consciously. He feels a hand on his shoulder and looks over to see Louis looking at him so warmly, his eyes so full of adoration that Harry could be in nothing but his pants and he wouldn’t care what the well dressed people around him had to say about it.

“Thank you so much, Harry. I just … I don’t know what I did in a past life to deserve you, but god am I ever grateful.” Before Harry can do much more than blink, Louis surges up and connects their mouths, pulling him into a rather heated snog for a crowded theatre lobby.

Harry feels the blood rush to his cheeks but chooses to ignore it (and the voices whispering nearby); this may be the last night Louis ever looks at him like this, _touches_ him like this. He’s going to enjoy every last second of it.

Louis eventually breaks the kiss, pulling away slowly and fitting himself against Harry’s side instead. Harry’s pretty sure he’s in the middle of the best moment of his life. He tucks his arm through Louis’, refusing to separate their bodies as he leads them both over to the concessions area.

Unlike when they go out to see a film and wind up splitting a coke and some popcorn, everything here is significantly more adult. There’s also a fully stocked bar, which Harry is certain he and Louis will be taking advantage of later.

For now, they settle on getting a soft drink each and people watching for a bit, whispering about whether or not the theatre is haunted (“Well it was built in, like, 1930, Haz. There’s bound to be some dead blokes floating around.”) and if it really is bad luck to say Macbeth (though Louis claps his hand over Harry’s mouth before he can get out more than the first syllable). After deciding to google the ghost thing when they get back, and agreeing to never discuss ‘the Scottish play’ again in a theatrical setting, they realize it’s time to take their seats.

Because Harry’s a student (and broke), he could only afford to get them seats on the highest level of the theatre near the back. It hardly matters though, what with the look of pure joy on Louis’ face when they finally sit down and he just _stares_ at the empty stage.

“Shit,” he breathes, oblivious to the scandalized looks on the faces of the older couple next to them. He turns to Harry with a grin on his face so wide he reminds him of a little kid on Christmas.

“We’re actually here. In the Phoenix. About to watch the musical adaptation of one of my favourite movies.” His eyes widen as he talks, seeming more and more stunned by his good fortune. Harry kind of wants to take a picture of his expression, it deserves to be immortalized forever, but he knows that would creepy (and also there’s a no flash photography rule).

Louis sits, completely spell-bound for the entire first act. Harry alternates between watching the show and watching Louis, who’s so engrossed by the musical that he fails to notice anything going on around him. By the time the intermission rolls around, Louis looks as though he’s undergone some sort of spiritual awakening.

“I want this, Haz,” he admits, his voice a bit shy but his eyes bright. “I want to be on stage in front of all these people and I want to make them laugh and make them cry and happy and sad. I want to distract them, make them forget about the bad stuff in their lives.” He pauses, trying to think of the best way to more concisely phrase what he means. “I just ... I want to make people feel. Does that make sense?”

He looks a little embarrassed, obviously not used to expressing his deepest desires to bluntly and openly. Harry pulls him in close and presses a gentle kiss against the side of his head.

“You will, Lou. I don’t doubt it for a second. You’re going to stand on that stage and you’re going to change people’s lives.”

Louis stares at him, his eyes welling up a bit. “Thank you.”

Harry gives him a fond smile. “You already said that.”

Louis bites his lip. “Yeah, well I think it deserves to be said again. You’re so amazing, Hazza.”

And for once, Harry doesn’t let the wave of guilt that washes over him affect the surge of love he feels for the boy in front of him. Yes, he still has some major problems to fix, and yes, chances are Louis’ going to be hurt and angry, but this thing between them is worth it. _They’re_ worth it. Harry can’t give up on them. He won’t.

 

***

 

They stumble out of the theatre with their arms wrapped around each other, disgustingly sappy (and tipsy - they decided to hit the bar for some celebratory cocktails before leaving) and proud of it. Harry tugs Louis along towards the nearest tube station, wondering if maybe they should just split a taxi instead.

Harry doesn’t realize he’s voiced this thought aloud until Louis shakes his head at him. “No, Hazza, taxi’s not as fun as the tube.”

Harry’s pretty sure he wouldn’t classify either form of transportation as particularly fun, but he allows Louis to pull him down the sidewalk towards the entrance of the station.

They snuggle together on the platform, Louis burrowed under Harry’s arm like an adorable owl. The train’s not too packed when they get on, meaning they’re able to find two seats next to each other for the ride back to campus.

“You always smell so nice, Harold.” Louis mumbles, his eyes closing as he rests his head on Harry’s shoulder.

“Why thank you, Lou.” He leans forward and nuzzles his nose in Louis’ hair. “For the record, you smell pretty amazing too.” Harry’s pretty sure they wouldn’t be having this conversation in a public place sober, but it’s worth it to hear the giggle Louis lets out at the feel of Harry’s nose pressed against his head.

“When we get back to yours, I want to cuddle on the couch and watch that episode of _One Tree Hill_ where Brooke thinks Hayley is also called Brooke.”

Despite the pleasant haze of tipsiness, Harry feels his stomach drop. Originally, he’d been planning on telling Louis the truth as soon as they got back, wanting to capitalize on his good mood. Now that he’s here, though, with a cute snuggly Louis who doesn’t despise him (yet), he wonders if he should just put it off until tomorrow when they’re both sober.

They had such a great date today, too. He selfishly doesn’t want to taint the memory of it for either of them.

Harry makes the mental decision to absolutely 100% without a doubt talk to Louis tomorrow, right when they both wake up.

“Yeah, Lou, sounds great.” He pauses, wanting to hold himself accountable. “You don’t have to be anywhere tomorrow morning, right?”

Louis shakes his head in lieu of responding, his soft hair tickling Harry’s neck.

“Do you think we can maybe talk when we both wake up?”

Louis looks up at him in alarm, and Harry realizes that probably could have been phrased better. “No, it’s nothing bad. I just don’t want to get into while we’re both a bit pissed.”

Louis nods, looking relieved, and goes back to napping against Harry’s shoulder.

There. At least Harry’s taken another stride towards telling Louis the truth, albeit a small one.

 

***

 

Campus is surprisingly quiet for a Friday night, and Harry wonders if the mid-semester blahs are already affecting people’s social lives. He wraps his arm around Louis’ waist and basically carries him over to the lift. They ride in silence, Louis practically asleep against Harry.

When they reach Harry’s floor, he does his best to unlock the door without jarring Louis. He pushes it open, blinking back in surprise against the light. Niall had told him he was going out, so Harry had assumed there’d be no one home. Sure, Niall could have accidentally left all of the lights on, but he was usually better than that.

Louis groans, burying his face further into Harry’s jacket, and Harry hits the main switch, plunging the flat into darkness.

Before he has a chance to do or say anything, the table lamp across the room switches on and Harry glances over to see his sister smirking at him from his couch.

“Look at you, Hazza, only been here a month and already bringing boys home with you.”

Gemma winks at him, the playful tone in her voice obviously intended to mock him, but Harry can feel his heart pounding in his chest.

Gemma is here. Why is Gemma here? Gemma knows Louis. _Louis_ knows Gemma.

Fuck.

Harry wonders if Louis’ out of it enough that he can drag him to his room without either of them recognizing the other, but his hopes are dashed when Louis raises his head up and squints over at Harry’s unexpected guest.

“I’m trying to sleep,” he slurs, his eyes barely open and clearly not recognizing her. The same can’t be said for Gemma. Her eyes narrow, flicking between Louis and Harry, and suddenly her jaw drops open.

“Lewis Tomlinson?” she blurts out, stunned.

And fuck, Louis’ certainly awake again now. He lifts his head completely off of Harry’s shoulder and gives her his full attention, his eyes cloudy with confusion until recognition seems to click.

“Gemma Styles? What the fuck?” His face breaks into a huge grin and Gemma walks over to him, pulling him into a hug.

Louis pulls back, a lingering smile on his face as he looks between the two of them. “So you two know each other? Weird.”

The blatant confusion on Gemma’s face would funny in literally any other situation. As it is, Harry just wants to die because he knows what’s coming, and he knows there’s no way to stop it.

“You didn’t, like, hit your head on the way over did you?” she asks, her tone laced with baffled amusement.

Louis frowns. “No, unless you count having one too many vodka tonics. I’m just surprised you two know each other, is all.”

Gemma gapes at him. “I don’t know why you would be, considering he’s my brother and all.”

Louis stares at her in confusion, his brain trying to process her words, before his eyes wander back over to Harry like he’s trying to put two and two together. Harry can tell the moment he realizes what’s happening because he looks like he’s been punched in the gut.

“What the _fuck_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, at least if I had to take an extra week to update, it means fic!Harry and fic!Louis had an extra week of happiness before everything came crashing down around them, right?
> 
> You guys are so great and so patient and I hope this was enough to make up for the wait.


	8. VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blah working three jobs is cutting into my fic time but we're almost at the end! Just one last proper chapter then an epilogue. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me, y'all <3

Generally speaking, Harry tries to live his life without regrets, but this is one moment that he thinks he’ll hate himself for the rest of eternity.

His brain is stuck in some weird state of suspended animation, his mouth gaping and his eyes wide as Louis stares at him. Harry can see the shift in his emotions, can actually spot the moment Louis goes from confused to stunned, finally landing on something that looks like a cross between hurt and hella fucking pissed off.

Louis jerks his body away from Harry, taking a bunch of steps backwards, and it’s not until he turns to walk out the door that Harry’s brain and body start communicating properly again.

“Lou, wait - ”

Other than a noticeable flinch at the sound of Harry’s voice, Louis acts like he didn’t say anything, striding towards the door and slamming it behind him on the way out.

Harry moves to run after him, but he feels Gemma’s arm on his shoulder forcibly holding him back.

“I don’t know what you did, exactly, but talking to you is probably the last thing he needs right now.” Harry probably shouldn’t feel as surprised as he is to note the displeased look on Gemma’s face, but he nods slowly, letting her pull him over to the couch.

“I’m going after him,” she says firmly. “He probably won’t want to talk to me either, but the least I can do is try.”

She hesitates before leaving, rubbing a comforting hand through Harry’s hair. “It’ll be okay, Haz. Whatever happened between you, I’m sure you can fix it.”

She takes off after Louis before Harry can think of a response, but it hardly matters. He knows he’s fucked everything up. He doesn’t try to comfort himself with false promises as he cries, hating himself a little bit more with each passing second.

 

***

 

Gemma’s only been gone for about fifteen minutes but Harry desperately needs her to get back soon. He can’t be alone with his thoughts. He needs a hug. He needs his _sister_.

Almost like she’s been summoned by the desperation emanating from every pore in his body, Gemma slowly pushes the front door open a couple of minutes later, as if expecting that Harry might actually have fallen asleep in her absence. Based on her body language Harry can immediately tell she’s been unsuccessful at finding his boyfriend.

Well, ex-boyfriend now, probably.

“H?” She whispers, and the quiet sob he chokes out is going to have to suffice. It’s the best he can do.

“Oh Haz,” she murmurs, coming quickly over to the couch and pulling him up so he’s cuddled against her, his wet face pressing against her shoulder.

“I ruined everything. He’s going to hate me.” He sobs, the only coherent thoughts in his head. Gemma rubs a comforting hand up and down his back.

“You don’t know that, okay? I know things seems awful right now but you don’t know that they’re as bad as all that.” Her voice is soft, and her tone reminds him so much of how their mum used to comfort the both of them when they were younger.

“You don’t even know what happened. _I_ would hate me if I were him.” He’s not so much crying anymore as he is existing in despair.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Gemma asks gently, and no, Harry really, _really_ doesn’t, but he knows he sort of has to. He’s done enough evading of the truth to last a lifetime, anyhow.

“I met Louis again at a party during freshers week. I recognized him right away, but he didn’t know me. Ni says it’s cause I look way less dorky than the last time we say each other,” Gemma lets out a fond laugh but lets him continue, “but anyway it turned out we had a class together and we started talking and hanging out and I just, never told him the truth. He thought I was just some random bloke named Harry studying Law.”

“But why? Why not tell him straight away? Did you think he wouldn’t be happy to see you or something?” Gemma asks, her voice genuinely curious and blessedly free of judgment.

Harry sighs. “Sort of.” He picks at his fingernail. “Look, there’s something you don’t know about me and Louis, like, from before we moved.”

Harry knows he has to tell her, nothing will make sense otherwise, but that doesn’t mean he can keep eye contact with her when he does.

“Basically, I had like a massive embarrassing crush on him, and he, um, sort of walked in on me wanking to the thought of him?”

Gemma makes a noise that sounds like a cross between a horrified groan and a screech. Either way, Harry’s not particularly proud to be the cause of it. He braces himself for yelling or scolding or a lecture on not being creepy about her friends but instead Gemma bursts out laughing.

“Oh my GOD. Holy shit. That explains _everything_.” And … what?

Harry repeats the thought out loud before he can think better of it.

“Haz, Louis was acting so strange the last two weeks of school before we moved. Like, he’d blush every time I mentioned you and asked all these weird questions. I’m pretty sure he liked you just as much as you liked him.”

Well, wasn’t that just great. Gemma could have spared the two of them five years of angst if she’d only bothered to speak up sooner. Harry can’t actually justify blaming his sister for his own relationship fuck ups, so he bites back the wave of irrational anger he feels.

“The point is, I had _no clue_ how he felt about me. I thought he hated me, like, it was _humiliating_ Gemma, you don’t even understand. Now imagine you bump into the guy you’ve been in love with since you were twelve and, miracle of miracles, he not only doesn’t seem to recognize you, but he’s also super attracted to you, like, right away and the feeling is definitely mutual. Wouldn’t you take that blank slate? I was so grateful to get a fresh start with him, Gems, and I always planned on telling him the truth. _Always_.”

Harry sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“That was the point of tonight, actually. I took him out on this amazing date, and then I was going to come clean tomorrow morning. I wanted us to have one last perfect night before I risked ruining everything.”

Gemma looks heartbroken on his behalf, and a little bit guilty, which Harry maybe feels is deserved. She pulls him closer and gives him a kiss on top of the head.

“I’m so sorry, H. I really am.” She squeezes his arm in a way that he thinks is meant to be comforting. “I still don’t think all hope is lost, though. Give him some time. It’s a lot to process, you know?”

And yes, Harry does know. He’d give Louis all the time in the world if it meant that maybe he could fix things between them eventually, but there’s a part of him that realizes that maybe that’s not enough. Maybe there’s nothing Harry can offer Louis that will make up for the betrayal he feels.

It’s a sobering thought to fall asleep to.

 

***

 

Harry wakes up to a sticky note on his forehead from Gemma saying she’d gone to grab breakfast and a pissed off Niall staring at him from the kitchen. Harry’s still too emotionally out of it do bother doing much more than groan and turn back over so his face is pressed into the back of the couch.

“You’ll never guess what happened last night,” Niall starts, his voice uncharacteristically cold, and Harry knows he’s not going to be given much of a choice when it comes to when he’s going to be forced to deal with everything. Before Harry can formulate any sort of response, Niall starts talking again. It’s going to be one of _those_ mornings. Great.

“I’m at Zayn’s, right, cause I knew you and Louis would be heading back here, when suddenly the door bangs open and Louis walks in, crying his eyes out and just generally a giant emotional mess. You should have seen him, Harry, really. It was heartbreaking. I ended up spending the night at Ed’s cause I knew Lou needed Zayn and I wanted to give them some space.”

And the thing is, it’s not like Harry hadn’t figured that Louis would have been incredibly upset, but hearing it straight from Niall like this just makes everything hurt more. Harry opens his mouth, not quite sure what to say but knowing he needs to say something when Niall just bulldozes over him, evidently not quite finished yet.

“Then Zayn calls me this morning, telling me everything Louis said, _demanding_ to know if I already knew. And I wasn’t going to lie to him, I couldn’t after all of this shit, so I told him the truth. I said I’ve known you since we were kids, and I was there when everything went down with Louis the first time, and guess what? Now Zayn’s angry with me too. Because I kept your stupid secret, my only other real friend at this school is refusing to talk to me. So thank you, Harry. Really, thank you.”

Harry can hear how genuinely upset Niall is under his anger, and he feels _awful_. He knows he fucked up, okay? He knows. But he hadn’t meant for his actions to affect anyone else either. He hadn’t meant to hurt Niall.

“I don’t know what to say other than how truly sorry I am.”

Niall sighs, combing a hand through his hair. “Just fix it.” His voice softens a bit, seeing the look of devastation on Harry’s face. “Please.”

Harry has no idea how he’s ever going to make things right, but he figures Niall’s right. He has to at least start trying.

 

***

 

Harry waits until Niall’s headed out for class before picking up the phone and calling Louis. He’s been putting it off all morning, frankly not in a good head space to even attempt a conversation before then but knowing he has to get over it and do _something_ if he has any hope of salvaging things between them.

He types in Louis’ name and hits ‘call’. The phone rings a grand total of two times before he’s sent straight to voicemail. Harry frowns and tries calling again in lieu of leaving a message, and this time it doesn’t even finish ringing the first time before Louis’ pre-recorded voice is telling him to leave his name and number and a brief message.

Harry feels his eyes start to well up without his permission. It’s not just a matter of Louis refusing to answer his calls, but the deliberate steps he’s taking to cut them off completely, not even keeping up the pretense of letting it ring through to voicemail on its own.

Harry starts choking up and ends the call, knowing that he’ll just regret anything he might say to Louis in a message as things stand at the moment.

 

***

 

It’s not until that night, with Gemma holding him tucked against her side like a human pillow that Harry has the courage to try calling Louis again. This time he doesn’t register the same pang of disappointment when he’s sent straight to voicemail, doing his best to keep his voice even.

“Louis,” and even just saying his full name hurts, as odd as that sounds. After weeks of fond nicknames and teasing, it stings to realize he no longer feels like he has the right to call him anything else. “I know you don’t want to talk to me, and I get it, I wouldn’t want to talk to me either.” He pauses, wiping away the tears that have started gathering. “But you deserve the truth, which is something I didn’t give you before, and if this is my only chance to tell you then I’m going to take it.”

Gemma squeezes his shoulder and he uses her presence beside him to keep going. “I’ve been painfully in love with you since I was 12. I thought I ruined everything back in secondary and that you hated me, so seeing you again, and you not recognizing me, it felt like the universe was giving me a second chance to get to know you properly without everything that happened before getting in the way. I always meant to tell you the truth. _Always_. But I was scared … terrified, really … that you’d hate me again when I told you, so I kept putting it off.” He pauses his throat feeling too dry and his eyes too wet.

“I was going to tell you, right after our date. That’s why I asked you to stay the next morning. I just ... “ he pauses again, uncertain of how to go on. “I know I fucked up, okay? I know I hurt you, and I won’t blame you if you never forgive me. But you deserve to know the truth. It’s the least I can do.” Harry swallows, hanging up the phone before the operator gets a chance to cut him off.

Gemma pulls him even tighter into her arms, letting his bury his head against her shoulder.

“I feel so bad, Gem. I don’t know what else to do.” He finally lets himself go, knowing she won’t judge him. She strokes his hair.

“You’ve done everything you can. Just give him some time, okay? It’s a lot to process.”

Harry nods against her shoulder, wishing more than anything that he could just _talk_ to Louis.

 

***

 

Gemma ends up staying at Harry and Niall’s for another couple of days before heading back to Cheshire, admitting that she managed to get a job interview for the following day and needs time to prepare. Harry is thrilled for her, his own emotional instability be damned, and she ends up leaving with a promise to call him the second she gets home.

Niall is finally talking to Harry again, albeit in sentences that are five words or less, but it’s progress. At least he no longer seems to blame his falling out with Zayn entirely on Harry, admitting the night before Gemma leaves that he made the choice not to speak up even if he did it for the right reasons.

On the subject of speaking up, Harry’s called Louis a grand total of thirty times since the first night, restricting himself to only leaving one voicemail a day. He still has yet to hear a word from Louis, so he’s not even sure whether he’s listening to them or just getting Zayn to delete them. Either way, it takes all of Harry’s restraint not to just show up on his door and grovel.

He nearly does try, after the second day of radio silence from Louis, but Niall had dragged him away from the door, saying that Zayn had already warned him not to let Harry anywhere near their flat. The look in Niall’s eye had been serious enough to convince Harry to forget it.

The worst part is, Harry’s not even sure where he and Louis stand. Have they actually broken up or are they just in the middle of a particularly vicious fight? He feels like he’s just stuck while the world goes on around him, and his pride is the only thing keeping him from calling up his mum and having a good cry-slash-vent over the phone.

He fucked up. He knows he did. He’s just not sure how he’s supposed to move forward and make things better if Louis won’t even talk to him.

Harry goes into a slump, there’s really no other way to describe it. Niall puts up with him moping around the flat for exactly three days before forcing him out of the nest.

His threat of calling Gemma is the only thing that gets him off of his arse and out the door. He decides to wander over to an ice cream parlour down the street, figuring it must be touted as the number one cure for a broken heart for a reason.

It’s not until he’s up at the register paying for his double scoop mint chocolate chip cone that he realizes he’s not the only one with that thought. He feels a pair of eyes on him and turns around after handing over his debit card to the cashier to see Louis standing in the door of the parlour looking shell shocked.

Their eyes meet for a long moment, Harry’s stunned and Louis’ filled with panic before Louis turns on his heel and walks right back out the door.

Harry impatiently waits for his payment to go through, snatching his card back and stuffing it in his wallet as he runs out after Louis, ignoring the cashier asking if he needs his receipt.

He shoves through the door, looking up and down the sidewalk in a daze trying to see which direction Louis had gone, but it’s too late. He’s gone.

Harry stares down at his feet, the tiny flicker of hope in his heart dying out as quickly as it had appeared.

He makes the walk back to his flat alone.

 

***

 

Harry wakes up the next morning in a right panic. It’s the first day he and Louis have their shared Intro to Post Modernism class since the maybe break up, and he has no idea what to do.

Does he try to sit next to him? Give him space and see what happens? Fall to his knees in the middle of class and publicly beg for forgiveness? Shit, what should he _wear_?

He knows it’s shallow, but it’s also the only time he’s guaranteed to see Louis for the next week. He needs to make his outfit count.

He settles on the usual tight black skinny jeans and chelsea boots, only this time he slips on the white t-shirt Louis had lent him the first night he’d stayed over back in September. Harry burrows his face in the soft fabric before pulling it on. He misses Louis, is the thing. He misses his smile, and his laugh, and his eyes when Harry says something particularly funny (well, funny to him, anyhow). He misses talking with him and cuddling with him and hearing about his day. It’s not even the physical stuff so much (though he misses that too). It’s just _Louis_.

Harry shows up to class fifteen minutes early, figuring it’ll be better for Louis if he just picks a seat somewhere in the back and gives him the option of whether or not to sit next to him.

He practices breathing as the class slowly fills up, making sure the seat is open without seeming too forceful about it. It has to be Louis’ choice. He knows that.

The professor walks in just as class is about to start and Harry nearly gives up hope when he sees a familiar head of messy brown hair appear in the door. Louis’ eyes scan the classroom, his expression carefully blank. He looks like he’s about to step inside when his eyes land on Harry and his whole posture tenses up. Harry can see the panic in Louis’ eyes again for a brief moment before they close off, like a pair of shutters blocking out the light.

Louis strides straight over to the professor, quietly saying something that causes the Professor to nod seriously, gently patting him on the back.

Louis shoots one final look in Harry’s direction, against his better judgement it seems, before walking right back out of the class, the door closing quietly behind him.

Harry is incredibly tempted to bang his head against his desk, but he settles for closing his eyes instead, wondering if there’s any point of actually staying for the lecture. It’s not like he’s going to be learning much of anything in his current state.

 

***

 

Harry comes straight back to the flat from class, feeling more defeated than he has been all week.

Niall, who’s sprawled across the couch eating some microwaved takeout, immediately inundates him with questions.

“What happened? Did you talk to him?”

Harry shakes his head. “He didn’t even come to class. Just saw that I was there and turned back around and went out the door.”

Harry collapses in their armchair, his body language and expression the picture of hopelessness. “I don’t know what else there is to do. Tell me, Niall, because he won’t even _let_ me apologize to him at this point.”

Niall gets up off the sofa, sliding his leftovers towards Harry. “You keep trying, H. That’s all you can do. You have to show him that you’re still here for him, that you won’t give up even when he’s doing his best to push you away. He doesn’t trust you right now, which, you know, I can’t exactly say I blame him.”

Harry sighs. “I don’t know how to fix that if he won’t talk to me.”

Niall shrugs. “You’re going to have to find a way, mate. Or else …”

Niall trails off, but his meaning is clear enough. Harry has to do _something_ , and fast, or else everything he had with Louis will be lost.

Things are at a standstill for the next couple of days, and by the time they reach the week mark since _The Gemma Incident_ as Niall likes to call it, Harry still has yet to hear a word from Louis, let alone spot him anywhere else on campus.

He’s been racking his brains, trying to come up with a way to get Louis to talk to him without just showing up on his doorstep. Apparently Zayn had been _very_ serious when he’d told Niall that Harry should under no circumstance show up at their flat, and as frustrating as it is, Harry knows he needs to respect his wishes.

The weekend passes only slightly better than the one that had come before it, with Harry venturing outside of the flat a few times to get groceries and meet up with a few casual friends he’d made in his law program. His heart really wasn’t in it, but he tried, hating how much of his emotional well being is tied directly into Louis.

He collapses in his bed at nine thirty on Sunday night, not bothering to do much more than strip out of his jeans and brush his teeth before falling into a shallow sleep.

He wakes up abruptly to the sound of his mobile vibrating in the pocket of his discarded trousers on the floor. Harry quickly shoots a disgruntled glance at the clock - one in the morning - before grabbing his phone _just a second_ too late and missing the call.

He feels his heart drop to the floor when he sees the name on his screen.

Louis called him. And he missed it.

Harry frantically presses re-dial, not caring about anything other than getting Louis on the line. All he gets is a busy tone, and he angrily throws his phone on his bed, ignoring both the urge to cry and start breaking things.

He lies in his bed dejectedly for about thirty seconds before his mobile beeps. His eyes widen as he scrambles for it in the covers, knowing that beep can mean only one thing - Louis left a message.

Harry’s finger hovers over the voicemail button as he gives himself a moment to breathe and prepare himself. He has no idea if Louis is calling to talk or because he wants to break things off officially, but either way it means something has changed.

He presses play.

 _“I hope I didn’t wake you or anything. I don’t even know why I’m calling.”_ Louis pauses, and Harry feels his heart break into a million tiny pieces. His voice is quieter than Harry’s used to hearing it, as if he’s uncertain about whether he’s doing the right thing.

 _“No, that’s not true. I know why I’m calling, I’m just not sure … I don’t know if I should have or not.”_ Louis sounds frustrated with himself, and Harry can just picture the look on his face. _“The thing is, I just need to get this out and off my chest. My audition is tomorrow, and I haven’t been able to focus all week because …”_ He trails off, and Harry can hear the emotion behind his words that Louis’ trying so desperately to suppress

_“ ... Because you know why, and that’s not fair. You don’t get to break my heart and ruin my audition. I’m so upset and distracted all the time I can’t concentrate on anything else, I mean, do you have any idea what you’ve done to me? I’ve never been so angry and humiliated and I have no idea what to do or how to make it go away.”_

Louis’ voice is getting sharper and more loaded with emotion and Harry feels his hands squeezes into fists at his side, bracing himself for what’s to come.

_“I mean, were you ever going to tell me? Did I mean that little to you? Were my feelings for you that much of a fucking joke that you thought you could just string me along for months?”_

Harry can hear the tears he’s fighting to hold back now, and it hurts, knowing he did that to him, knowing he’s still doing that to him.

_“I should just end this now. I don’t know why I thought calling you would change anything.”_

He lets out a sad little sigh before hanging up the phone, putting an end to the most unsatisfying and heartbreaking voicemail Harry’s ever heard.

Harry shoves his phone off the bed and chokes back a sob, wanting nothing more than to sleep until the end of the semester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry


	9. IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it. The final chapter. I'm so glad I was able to get this up before Christmas (and on Louis' Birthday - clearly the more important of the two [I can feel my mom rolling her eyes at me from here]).
> 
> I still have to write the epilogue, but I did my best to tie up the bulk of the loose ends here. Merry Christmas and Happy Last Day of Hanukkah to everyone who celebrates, and to those who don't, I hope you have a great rest of the year and an absolutely incredible New Year!

From the moment he wakes up the next morning, Harry just _knows_ it’s going to be a terrible day. It seems that he accidentally turned his alarm off when he threw his phone off the bed the night before, and he doesn’t actually realize that he missed one of the most important classes of the semester until he hears an insistent, angry banging on the door and looks at the clock.

He barely has time to comprehend the fact that he’s slept through his first lecture before Niall bursts inside his room, eyes wide.

“Mate, what the fuck!”

Despite being in different faculties, Niall and Harry both have to take the same intro to contract law course, which, of course, happens to be the class Harry slept right through.

“Go away,” Harry mumbles, pulling his comforter back over his head in a half-hearted attempt to smother himself.

He’s ripped out of his blanket-womb a moment later as Niall tears it back.

“I know you’re upset, H, and I get it, but today was the most important test of the semester and you bloody missed it.  What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

And just like that, Harry snaps. It’s not even Niall’s fault, not entirely anyway, but he’s there, and yeah Harry’s still kind of pissed at him for how he reacted about the whole Zayn thing.

“I DON’T KNOW! I have no fucking clue what I’m doing, okay? Fuck, Niall, this past week has been the worst of my life, and quite frankly, you’ve done nothing but make me feel worse. Don’t you think I feel bad enough about what happened with Louis? Do you really have to add on to that constantly? I’m sorry Zayn’s not talking to you but _don’t make it my fault_. Jesus, I thought you were my best friend, but so far I’ve gotten more support from my sister over Skype than I have from you.”

Harry’s breathing heavily by the end of his rant, and though he hadn’t meant to just go off like that, he clearly needed it. His feelings have been building up inside him all week, and he can’t deny that he feels an instant wave of relief as soon as the words are out.

Quickly followed by a crashing sense of guilt at the shell shocked look on Niall’s face.

Harry instantly sits up, unsure of what to do. He regrets the tone of his words, but not the message behind them.

Niall blinks at him uncertainly.

“Ni, I’m - ” Harry starts to say, but to his complete surprise, Niall just sits on the bed next to him, burying his head in his hands.

“You’re right.”

And … what? This is an unexpected development. Harry feels his eyebrows pull together.

“I’ve been a shit friend, Haz, I know I have and I’m sorry. I was so angry when Zayn told me he didn’t want to talk to me anymore, and my first instinct was to push all of that off onto you because I couldn’t deal with the fact that it was my choice not to say anything earlier. I tried to play the victim inside my head because I didn’t want to face the truth.”

“So what do you think now?”

“If I had to do it all over again, I don’t know that I wouldn’t have made the same choice.” Niall pauses, giving Harry a sad look. “I love you, H, always have, and much as I’ve grown to care about Zayn, I’ll always choose you.” He looks down at his hands. “Though I’m guessing if you could do it all over again, you’d do a few things differently.”

Harry doesn’t even bother responding, choosing instead to fall back against his mattress dejectedly.

“I didn’t even mean to miss class today. Louis called me last night and then I guess I forgot to set my alarm or whatever - ”

“What do you mean Louis called you?” Niall asks, eyes wide.

“I didn’t actually get to speak to him. He left a message.” Harry admits, flushing.

“Jesus, H, I can’t believe you didn’t lead with this! What’d he say?”

Harry bites his lip. “He’s angry, Niall. He’s so angry and hurt.” Harry takes a deep breath. “I really think it’s over. I think he’s done.”

Niall stares at him with an intensity Harry’s rarely seen. “Did he say that explicitly? Like, no other possible way to interpret it? He definitely wants to break up with you?”

Harry blinks. “Well, not exactly - ”

Harry’s interrupted by Niall smacking his arm. “Then what the hell are you still doing here moping?! Go talk to him!”

Harry frowns. “Did you not hear the part where he told me how disappointed and angry he was with me for a full thirty seconds?”

Niall scrunches his face up. “Harry, I love you, but you’re an idiot.”

“Great, cheers.”

“No, shut up. He called you. After a full week of silence and blocked calls, he reached out to you. Finally. And he didn’t just hang up, _he left you a message_.”

Harry tries to suppress the burst of hope fluttering in his chest. “So you’re saying - ”

“There’s still hope, Haz. All you have to do is prove that it’s worth it to him.”

Harry doesn’t bother holding back the small grin blooming on his face. “He called me.”

Niall nods aggressively. “He called you. Now it’s your turn to show some initiative. Fight for him, Haz.”

Harry stands up and starts getting dressed with a fierce determination he hasn’t felt in a long time.

“I’m going to do it. I’m going to show him that we’re worth it.”

Niall whistles excitedly.

“You go Glen Coco, four for you Glen Coco!”

 

***

 

Harry’s listened to Louis’ voicemail an embarrassing number of times since Louis called the previous night, and he still feels the same sharp pang of guilt at the anguish in his tone.

He’d tried calling back as soon as Niall had left, distractedly walking over to campus with his phone glued to his ear. Harry is unfortunately not all that surprised when Louis once again refuses to answer, assuming that whatever moment of weakness happened the night before is gone in the cold light of day.

Louis’ mailbox is also full, apparently, thought Harry has a sinking feeling that Louis’ just blocking him from being able to leave a message. He might be slightly paranoid, seeing as he’s not actually sure if that’s even something Louis can do, but at this point he’s not willing to rule out anything.

He’s still not sure what exactly he can do to make it better, but he has a feeling it starts with doing his best to get to Louis before his RADA audition (particularly if he feels like he’s emotionally off-kilter. Harry would throw himself into the Thames if Louis didn’t get into the school of his dreams because of _him_.)

The main problem is, Harry doesn’t actually know where Louis’ audition is being held, or even what time. The drama department is big, and the school itself even bigger, so Harry has no clue where to start looking. Rather than wandering around aimlessly and hoping he’ll stumble into the right room by chance, Harry decides to be proactive. He’s going to talk to someone at the admin office.

Harry’s still metaphorically patting himself on the back for the stroke of genius when that plan gets shot to hell. He leans against the front desk, a nervous smile on his face as the woman across from him gives him an unimpressed look.

“Hi, I was just wondering if you could tell me where the RADA auditions are being held today?”

The woman types something in her computer.

“Student number?”

Harry frowns. “Oh, it’s not for me. It’s my friend who’s auditioning.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Okay, then what’s your friend’s student number?”

Harry bites his lip. “I don’t know.”

The woman sighs. “Then I’m afraid I can’t help you. I just have a master list sorted by number.” She pauses, giving him a suspicious look. “You said you’re asking about a friend? Why don’t you just call them and ask where it is.”

Harry feels his stomach drop. “I, erm, want it to be a surprise.”

The woman finally seems sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I can help you.” Harry walks away, his bones heavy with disappointment and embarrassment at thinking making things right with Louis could possibly be that easy.

 

***

 

As Harry trudges back to the main part of campus, he realizes he has no options left than to do the one thing he’s been dreading all week. He’s running out of time, and there’s only one thing he can think of that holds even a chance of working.

He has to call Zayn.

 

***

 

Harry sits on a bench in the quad and presses random buttons on his phone, trying to gather up the courage to actually make the damn call. He takes a deep breath, trying to remind himself that Zayn can’t _actually_ kill him with only his fiery hatred before finally pressing ‘call’.

He bites back a surprised gasp when Zayn actually _picks up the phone_. Harry barely has a second to get over his shock at getting him live on the phone when Zayn start speaking, his voice low and far more serious than Harry’s ever heard before.

“I’m telling you this once. Stop calling. You fucked up - _badly_ \- and I never want to hear from you again.”

Zayn hangs up on him before Harry can even respond.

 

***

 

Harry lets himself wallow in his hurt feelings for a grand total of fifteen minutes before he forces himself to snap out of it and come up with a back up plan.

After a panicked call to Niall (who, bless his Irish soul, didn’t seem too upset with Harry for calling him in the middle of class), Harry nervously approaches the liberal arts building where Zayn’s creative writing class is being held. He doesn’t actually know what he’s going to do once he gets inside, but his end goal is to somehow convince Zayn to talk to him.

Harry feels like he’s walking towards his own execution as his boots drag ominously across the floor in the otherwise silent hallway. He spots the number of the room Niall had told him, takes a deep breath, and parks himself on the floor next to the door. He checks his watch and sees that there’s another twenty minutes of the class left.

Harry leans his head back against the wall, sighing as he settles in for the wait.

After a very long and very boring twenty minutes, Harry hears the scraping of chairs and the chattering of voices from inside the lecture hall, meaning the door is going to swing open any moment.

He steps back to avoid the flow of people, wincing as the blood rushes back to his limbs. He’s just managed to shake the pins and needles from his feet when he feels a pair of eyes on him and looks up to see Zayn looking more stunned than angry.

His expression quickly transforms into something much colder, though, once he’s had time to process, and he starts walking away, in the opposite direction from Harry.

Harry is pretty much at the end of his rope, exhausted and sad, and quite frankly, pissed off that everyone is acting like he routinely kidnaps children and sells their organs on the black market, so he can hardly be blamed for the way he reacts.

Harry strides over to Zayn, fueled by a strange combination of panic and fiery righteousness, and yanks him backwards by the elbow.

Zayn spins around and glares at him, his expression terrifying.

“Don’t _fucking_ touch me.”

Harry refuses to back down. “You can hate me all you want, I don’t give a fuck, but the least you can do is listen to what I have to say first. I know I fucked up, okay, I know, but I am trying to fix it and you won’t let me.”

Zayn’s face is closed off, his mouth pinched in a tight line, but he nods.

“Fine. But after this, we’re _done_.”

They end up going back to Harry and Niall’s flat, both because Harry wants privacy, and because he’s worried Zayn might just get up and leave before Harry knows how to find Louis if they go somewhere public.

That is, of course, if Harry hasn’t already missed Louis’ audition, which he knows is a distinct, awful possibility.

Zayn strides straight over to the sofa, sitting rigidly on the end and avoiding eye contact. Harry sighs, knowing this is going to be like pulling teeth as he closes and locks the door firmly behind him.

“So,” he starts, pausing when he realizes he probably should have thought through _what_ exactly he was going to say before he started speaking. He needs to be convincing, needs to prove to Zayn that he deserves a second chance, that he’s willing to do anything to prove his worth to Louis. He doubts that starting the conversation demanding to know where Louis’ audition is being held will accomplish that.

Zayn doesn’t say anything, his posture radiating serious ‘do not test me’ vibes as he waits for Harry to keep talking.

“I want to start with an apology,” he settles on. Zayn looks less than impressed. “An apology for you. I promised you I wouldn’t do anything that would hurt Louis, that I would do my best to take care of him and that you could trust me. Obviously I failed in both. So, I’m sorry Zayn. Not only for hurting your best mate, but for ruining our friendship too. I never wanted that to happen.”

Zayn looks slightly taken aback but not angry, necessarily. Harry takes that as a win.

“And of course, I want to apologize to Louis.” he hates how he hesitates over his name, how his voice wavers a bit no matter how hard he tries to control it. If Zayn notices, he doesn’t react.

“I want to tell him how sorry I am, but more than that, I want to _talk_ to him. I want to explain what happened, why I did the things I did. I’m not proud of my reasons, but I had them, and the least Louis deserves - the least we both deserve, really - is an explanation.” Harry sighs, looking at the floor. “I don’t expect forgiveness, but I think I should at least get the chance to tell him my version of what happened, don’t you?”

Zayn stays quiet for a long time, and Harry’s barely able to breathe, paranoid that he’s somehow managed to make things worse.

“What do you want me to do about it?” Zayn finally says, voice tired and sounding as though all the fight he’d built up in anticipation of their chat had drained away.

“He called me last night.” Zayn’s eyes widen in surprise at that. “I missed it, so we didn’t actually get to talk, but he left me a message.” Harry pushes back the guilt that’s managed to build itself up again. “He told me that his audition is today, and that he doesn’t think he’ll be able to do a good job because he can’t concentrate or focus on anything. And like, that’s his _dream_ , you know? The thought of him not making it because of me is the worst thing I can imagine.”

“You want to talk to him before his audition.” Zayn says, not a question but a statement. Harry nods.

“I don’t care if all he does is yell at me and storm out, I just,” Harry pauses, trying to put his feelings into words. “I want him to have the chance to push out whatever feelings he’s built up towards me so they don’t affect his audition. I don’t want to be the cloud hanging over his head any longer.”

It seems like he’s managed to say the right thing, because Zayn is giving him a curious look. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You really do want to do this for Lou rather than for yourself.”

Harry nods. “More than anything. It doesn’t matter if he never talks to me again, so long as he nails that audition.” Having Louis forgive him would be a pretty incredible bonus, but at this point Harry’s willing to accept pretty much any positive step forward he can take.

Zayn stands up. “Alright, I’ll tell you. But if you fuck up again, that’s it. I will castrate you.”

Harry lets out an uncomfortable snort at Zayn’s words, the threat far more specific than he’d expected. He worries for a moment that he’s ruined everything (again), and that Zayn will back out, but he’s pleasantly surprised to see Zayn give him an amused look before his face goes blank again.

“I’m serious, you know? This is it.”

And that’s the thing, Harry really does know. And as much as it hurts to be on the receiving end, he’s grateful Louis has a friend like Zayn who’s willing to do absolutely any and everything it takes to protect him.

“I know. Thank you, Zayn.”

Zayn sighs, pulling a piece of paper out of his wallet and passing it to Harry.

“The audition starts at 3. He gets to bring one person with him for moral support. It was going to be me, but … ”

Harry takes the slip of paper gratefully. “I won’t disappoint you. I promise.”

Zayn raises an eyebrow. “It’s not me I’m worried about.”

Harry blushes, letting the truth of Zayn’s statement sink in. “You could wait here, you know? If you wanted.”

Zayn gives him a confused look, and Harry elaborates. “Niall should be home in a bit. I know he’d love to talk to you.”

A flash of understanding flickers in Zayn’s eyes. “I’ll think about it, yeah?”

Harry nods. “The door locks itself, so just, like, let yourself out whenever.” He walks towards the door himself, glancing quickly at his watch to see that he only has 45 minutes before Louis’ audition starts. “He misses you, Zayn. Please don’t hold my mistakes against him.”

Harry exits the flat before Zayn can respond, and the last thing he sees is the deep frown spreading across his face before Zayn sits back down on the sofa.

 

***

 

The building where Louis’ audition is being held is surprisingly simple to find. Harry had just assumed that every part of his mission to beg Louis’ forgiveness would pose a major challenge, but fate seems to be on his side so far.

Harry pushes the door open and goes inside, trying to keep his anxiety at a minimum as his eyes scan the room for Louis. Instead, he bumps into a man in a pressed suit with a clipboard.

“Can I help you?” He asks, a pair of glasses perched precariously on the bridge of his nose. Harry does his best not to stutter, his nerves going haywire.

“Hi, yes, I’m looking for Louis Tomlin … ” Harry’s voice trails off uncomfortably when the boy in question walks into the room, one of his hands clenched in a nervous fist as he talks quietly to someone on his phone. Harry hears him mumble a quick ‘love you, mum,’ before hanging up and feels his heart drop. He just wants to pull Louis into his arms and smother him in hugs until he realizes just how amazing he is. Instead he waits with bated breath for Louis to notice him, wondering idly whether he’ll even be allowed to watch the audition or if Louis will have him kicked out.

Harry’s almost forgotten about the man next to him until he clears this throat, serving the dual purpose of reminding Harry he was technically in the middle of a sentence and attracting Louis’ attention.

Louis’ eyes flick up more as an involuntary reaction than anything else, and Harry has a blissful moment or two of just watching Louis’ face curious and relaxed before he realizes Harry’s standing there.

As soon as his eyes slide over to Harry, his entire face falls. Louis looks terrified and angry at the same time, like a caged animal, and it’s devastating for Harry to know that he did that.

Harry takes a hesitant step forward, keeping his body language as open as possible, but it’s obvious Louis’ not interested. He freezes, his eyes widening in panic as Harry slowly approaches, before turning and storming away.

Harry sighs, his shoulders sagging. He looks back to the man with the clipboard. “Him. I’m here for him.”

The man raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. Harry runs his hand through his hair, pushing back against the voice in his head telling him to leave, trying to convince him that Louis’ clearly not interested in speaking to him ever again, that it’s a lost cause.

But as much as his pride is hurting, and as much as it’d be so much easier to just give up, to leave and hope that he can still fix things later, Harry knows this is the last chance he’s going to get.

If he gives up now, he’ll regret it for the rest of his life.

So he puts on a brave face, sucks up his pride, and walks in the same direction Louis stormed off, hoping he can still catch him before Louis sneaks away.

Harry ends up wandering around backstage for a solid five minutes before someone stops and asks him if he’s even supposed to be there. Harry chokes out an awkward excuse, saying he’s there for moral support but he can’t seem to find his friend. It pains him to reduce their relationship to a friendship, but he’s nowhere near ready to refer to Louis as his ex. If that’s even what they are. Sort of a huge part of the reason he needs to _talk_ to him.

The person who stops him is actually incredibly obliging, offering to show Harry to the dressing rooms. Harry’s lead down a small hallway and pointed towards a small room off to the side where he’s assured Louis will be.

Harry barely gets out a thank you before the person is gone, and it’s just him again, standing awkwardly outside Louis’ door and prepared to grovel.

Harry raises his hand to knock, but then thinks twice of it. He puts on his bravest face and decides to just stride right in.

He’s instantly met with the sight of Louis hunched on the ground, rifling through his knapsack with his back facing the door.

“I’ll be right out, Bryant, just give me one sec.” Louis murmurs, his voice soft and surprisingly vulnerable. Louis finally finds what he was looking for and stands up, turning to face the door.

“Hi.”

The mere sound of Harry’s voice causes Louis to flinch. Harry bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood.

“Hi.” Louis says back, and his voice is monotone, his eyes looking absolutely everywhere but Harry, but it’s something.

They stand there in silence for a long moment, Louis staring at the ground and Harry staring at Louis, trying to make himself speak.

“I wanted to talk to you.” Harry finally gets out. Louis keeps looking at his feet.

“I don’t have anything to say,” Louis responds, but the tremor in his voice gives him away.

“That’s fine,” Harry starts, unable to hide the softness in his voice. “I’m not asking for that. I just want to explain things.”

And at that, Louis finally looks up, his eyes as cold as ice. “Why should I listen to you? How do I know you’re not going to lie to me just to save face? _Again_.”

Harry frowns. “Because you deserve the truth, Lou. And it’s the absolute least I can give you. Niall can even back up what I have to say, if you like.”

Louis laughs, but it’s not a warm sound. “Don’t you think you’ve humiliated me enough? You expect me to just sit there and listen and experience it _all_ _over again_? Fuck you, Harry.”

And now Harry is genuinely baffled, because he knew that Louis was mad at him for lying (and for such a long time, too), but it seems that’s not the only thing. It’s not even the most pressing thing. Shit, how badly had he misinterpreted Louis’ anger?

“I don’t understand.”

Louis snorts. “Clearly.”

Before Harry can say anything else, there’s a knock at the door and a deep voice calling out “Five minutes”.

“Fuck,” Louis whispers, scanning the room around him before picking up a paperwork package with his name stamped across the front.

He makes to shove past Harry and out the door, but Harry can’t let him. If he lets him go now, like this, he knows it’s over.

“I’m so sorry, Louis. I was embarrassed, okay? What I did, lying, it was cowardly and stupid but it had nothing to do with _you_. I thought you’d hate me if you ever found out the truth. I was trying to protect myself.”

Louis tries to break free from Harry’s hold, but Harry won’t let him.

“I can’t let you go out there like this. I can’t let my fuck up ruin your audition. Just … _please, Louis_. Know that none of this was because of you. I didn’t even know that you remembered me, let alone _had feelings for me_ until that day in the library. And I was so bowled over, so upset by how obviously we both misinterpreted what happened that I never even finished what I came there to do.”

Louis finally stops struggling, daring to raise his head a little bit, and it gives Harry the strength to keep talking.

“I was going to tell you the truth then. I was going to tell you that I’ve had feelings for you since I was twelve years old, and I had _no fucking clue_ you felt the same way, let alone that you were gay too. Niall used to make fun of me for the hopeless, pathetic crush I had on you. He only stopped teasing me about it after everything went to hell between us right before I moved.”

Harry can feel Louis tense up beneath his grip, but Harry doesn’t let go.

“What you failed to realize when you walked in on me getting off all those years ago was that I was thinking about _you_. I’d just found out you’d ended things with Hannah, and I thought I was home alone so I didn’t bother stopping myself from shouting your name. I _thought_ you heard me. I _thought_ you saw that I was looking at a picture of you. _I thought you hated me and were disgusted by me._ In my head, it explained everything - why we avoided each other, why you stopped talking to me, why you stopped coming by the house. I had _no bloody idea_ that the feeling was mutual, or that you’d gotten hard too. Can you see now why I wasn’t exactly eager to tell you the truth before? I thought it would ruin everything all over again.”

Harry pauses, and Louis _finally_ looks up and meets his eyes.

“I was so scared, Lou, and so desperately in love with you, that I kept putting off telling you the truth. But I _always_ planned to. Finding out your side of things just kind of threw a wrench in my timeline for a bit there.”

“The surprise theatre date,” Louis says, voice flat.

“I wasn’t lying when I told you I’d planned to tell you the morning after. I wanted to give you one last perfect night before I hurt you.” Harry sighs.

Louis doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, evidently still processing Harry’s words.

“You said you _were_ in love with me.” He phrases it like a statement, when they both know exactly what it is that he’s really asking.

“I still am.” And maybe the Harry of a few months ago would regret making himself so vulnerable, but this Harry knows it’s the only way he stands a chance of making things right.

Louis’s mouth drops open, and Harry notices for the first time that his eyes are wet.

“I love you, Louis, and I will spend the rest of my stupid life proving it to you.” Harry can practically hear Niall mocking him for being a massive walking cliche, but it doesn’t matter. It’s true.

Louis takes a deep breath, looking serious, when there’s another knock on the door, this one far more urgent.

“One minute, Louis!”

Louis panics, his face draining of colour when it becomes obvious that both of them forgot entirely about the audition, lost in their own little bubble.

“I have to go.” Louis jerks his arm out of Harry’s grasp, scampering out the door without even acknowledging Harry’s confession.

He stares at his hands, alone in the dressing room and wondering if there’s even anything left he can say to fix things. He feels empty.

He wipes away the tears gathering in his own eyes and pushes back the sting of rejection. He’s about to leave the room too when the door suddenly swings open again, revealing a wild-looking Louis.

Harry barely has time to blink before Louis throws himself at him, pulling him into maybe the most emotional hug Harry’s ever experienced.

“I love you too, you _bloody_ idiot.” He pants, his eyes wide. “We’ll talk more after, I promise, but I’m about to go through the scariest audition of my life and I’d really appreciate it if you were backstage with me.”

Harry grins wider than he’s pretty sure he ever has before, positive his dimples are on the verge of popping right out of his cheeks.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He says, taking Louis’ small hand in his own and letting himself be lead out the door and towards what he hopes is going to be an incredible (shared) future.

And he knows, is the thing. Harry _knows_ that this hasn’t solved everything. That they still have a lot to talk about, and that Louis hasn’t even said whether he forgives him or not yet. But it’s a start.

Harry and Louis are finally on the same page, finally seeing eye to eye, and while that doesn’t erase what Harry did or take away from how much it hurt Louis, it means that they can finally be totally and completely open with each other.

So yeah, Harry knows he and Louis still have a long way to go, but there isn’t a doubt in his mind that they’ll be okay.

There’s a reason so many of those proverbs about fate are all the variations of the same thing:

_If you love them, let them go._

_The cure for fate is patience._

And maybe the most relevant in Harry’s own life - _What’s fated to be yours will always return._

Sometimes though, Harry knows, you’ve just got to push things along a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been so much fun. I've always wanted to write a chaptered fic, and you've all been so great and your comments honestly make my day. Thanks for sticking with me through the chaotic disaster that has been my life for the past few months.
> 
> I'm hoping to get the epilogue up before the New Year, but if that doesn't happen it should still be up before January 5th.
> 
> Just a note - I wrote and edited this chapter while listening almost exclusively to February Seven by the Avett Brothers. I don't normally listen to music when I write, but this song is absolutely lovely and I highly recommend it.
> 
> Also, keep an eye out for my winter fic. Not sure when it'll be posted, but I'm really excited.


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this has been an adventure. I promise you that nothing lies here but fluff, teasing, and the wrapping up of some loose ends (i.e. 'whatever happened to Liam?' and 'are Zayn and Niall okay again?')

“Hush, Lou, be nice.” Louis stares at Harry with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“Hazza, after _all_ the teasing I had to put up with from Zayn _for weeks_ for being pathetically into you, you’d be insane to think I’m not going to throw it back at him tenfold.”

Well, Harry supposes Louis has a point. After all, it’s not often that Louis has a valid reason to mercilessly tease Zayn about his love life.

“Fine. That means you can’t take Niall’s side when I decide to embarrass him too.”

Louis thinks it over for a long moment before nodding, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Deal.”

Harry smirks, thinking back over how things had developed between his and Louis’ best friends over the past month. “This is going to be _so much fun_.”

It’s been two months since Louis’ audition, and about a week since Harry walked in on Niall and Zayn snogging desperately on the couch. Harry doesn’t think there’s enough brain bleach in the world to make him forget that image.

Now Niall and Zayn have decided that they want to try going out on a date. To see if they’re compatible as more than _just friends_ , as Niall had awkwardly explained it to Harry, his face beet red. Harry had agreed that was a wonderful idea and had promptly pulled out his phone to call Louis and fill him in on the (less than surprising, if Harry’s being honest) recent developments on the Zayn and Niall front.

Harry and Louis are _finally_ okay again, even better than how they were before because now, thank god, they’re open about everything - well, everything that _matters_ , anyhow. No more secrets, no more lies, just a near constant level of sugary sappiness that grosses out all of their friends.

Now that Louis knows the truth about Harry, it means Harry doesn’t have to worry about starting a story and remembering mid-way through that it’ll give away their shared past. It also means that Harry can openly talk about Gemma, his mum and Robin, and most importantly, his awkward teenage phases without worrying about the repercussions.

Maybe most importantly, it means that he can _finally_ get the university to fix his last name so it’s displayed as ‘Styles’ rather than ‘Twist’.

Harry hadn’t even realized how much of his relationship with Louis was lacking until they’d broken down all of the barriers between them. Just knowing he can be relaxed rather than guarded all the time, constantly worrying about letting something slip has led to a much stronger feeling of emotional intimacy between the two of them. And physical too, if Harry’s being honest.

Zayn and Niall had managed to work things out between them as quickly as Harry and Louis had, and Harry had a feeling in the back of his mind that it was only a matter of time before something less than platonic happened between them. He just never counted on being the one to witness it first hand.

Harry and Louis are sitting practically on top of each other on Louis’ couch, giggling about Zayn and Niall’s date. Zayn, for his part, is attempting to style his hair in a new way so he can ‘surprise’ Niall.

Harry thinks it’s unbearably cute. Louis mimes vomiting all over Zayn.

“Shut up, both of you, I can hear you from here.” Zayn’s irritated voice echoes from the bathroom.

Harry and Louis exchange a guilty glance before bursting into laughter.

“We’re sorry. We’ll mind our own business now, promise.” Louis says, sounding mostly sincere. Zayn merely grunts in response.

“So, what do you wanna do this weekend?” Harry decides to ask before Louis can come up with yet another way to irritate Zayn.

Louis smiles, his eyes lighting up. “I can’t believe I forgot, I meant to ask you ages ago. My mate Liam is coming down from Wolverhampton for the weekend and wants to have dinner and catch up. Do you wanna come?”

Harry frowns, trying to hide his apprehension. Harry’d always gotten the very clear sense that Liam didn’t like him, though it has been five years … Harry looks at the hopeful expression on Louis’ face and does his best to suppress his doubts.

“Yeah, sounds nice. Long as you’re sure I won’t be imposing.” Louis pokes Harry in the dimple with a grin.

“I promise you won’t be. He’s the one who asked me to invite you.” Harry’s eyebrows raise in astonishment.

“Don’t know why you’re so surprised. He is my oldest mate. Of course he wants to meet the curly haired fool who’s stolen my heart.”

Harry blushes, even though he’s pretty sure Louis technically just insulted him. “Okay, then. I’d love to come.”

Louis beams at him, which makes Harry want to smother him in cuddles. Before he can say anything else, there’s a knock at the door and Harry’s face breaks out into a huge smile as Louis crows obnoxiously, “Oh Zayniiiiiiiiiiiie. Your date’s here!”

There’s the sound of something dropping and a mumbled ‘ _bollocks_ ’ from inside the bathroom. Louis cackles.

Harry rolls his eyes and lumbers over to the door, pulling it open to reveal a surprisingly nervous looking Niall.

“Fuck.” His face drops as soon as he sees his flatmate and best friend on the other side of the door.

“Loving the warm welcome, Niall!” Louis shouts from his position on the couch. Harry snickers as Niall shrugs.

“Was hoping you lads wouldn’t be here, if I’m honest.”

Harry does his best to look affronted. “What, and miss my best friend in the whole world going on a date with the guy he’s been into for aaaaaages?”

Niall’s mouth remains in a flat line.  Harry giggles and steps aside to let him in, patting him on the back before prancing back over to the couch and throwing himself on top of Louis.

His boyfriend’s loud (and incredibly over-exaggerated, in Harry’s opinion) cry of pain is overshadowed by the look on Niall’s face when Zayn enters the living room.

Louis abruptly shuts up, his eyes flickering between the two of them as a tiny smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth.

“We’re going now.” Zayn says, leaving no room for argument. He grabs Niall’s hand in his, his eyes softening noticeably as he gives him a quick peck on the lips before towing him out of the flat behind him.

Louis sighs dramatically the moment the door shuts. “Ah, young love.”

Harry snorts. “You’re such an arse.”

Louis flutters his eyelashes. “Don’t act like my arse isn’t one of your favourite things about me.”

Harry shrugs. Louis’ eyes narrow. “Guess we know who’ll be sleeping on the couch, tonight!” He exclaims, intending to dramatically get up and storm off into his room. Harry’s well-versed enough in Louis’ bouts of hyperbole to know exactly when to grab him around the waist and pull him back down so he’s sitting on Harry’s lap.

“You’re such a brat.” Harry’s tone comes out unbearably fond, despite his best efforts. Louis wiggles around a bit, grinning at the look on Harry’s face.

“Yeah, but you love it.”

“I love _you_ ,” Harry corrects, and Louis stops moving in his lap, choosing instead to lean forward and kiss him.

“Love you, too.” He pauses, his eyes sparkling. “God, we’re embarrassing.”

Harry beams, too completely and utterly content to care.

 

***

 

It’s not until they’re outside the restaurant that Harry allows himself to feel nervous. He’s just been avoiding the thought of dinner with Liam all week, forcing himself to think about literally anything else (going so far as to call his nan up the night prior to ask for her scone recipe so he’d have something to distract himself with).

But now here he is, his palms sweaty and his underarms very likely matching. Louis, bless him, doesn’t seem all that bothered, taking Harry’s hand firmly in his own and giving it an encouraging squeeze.

“It’ll be alright, yeah? It’s not like you two’ve never met before.” Harry neglects pointing out that the only time he and Liam had ever spoken, it had been immediately after Liam had punted a football into his chest and nearly knocked him off the bleachers.

“It’s just kind of a big deal. You’d be nervous too, wouldn’t you?” Harry forces himself to voice all of his fears and concerns - no matter how dumb they might sound to anyone outside of his own head.

Louis wraps his arm around Harry’s waist and rests his head on his shoulder. “I would be, you’re right. But I promise, you’ve got nothing to worry about. I’ve talked Liam’s head off about how much I adore you.” Harry blushes. Louis pokes his nose, grinning.

“You’re adorable.” Harry swats his hand away, a matching grin spreading across his own face and causing his dimples to make a sudden, welcome appearance.

“That’s my boy. Alright, in we go. Don’t want him to think we’re standing him up.”

Harry rolls his eyes but obligingly lets Louis lead them both inside.

The inside of the restaurant is cozy, and Harry’s so distracted by the (admittedly charming) decor that he almost walks right into Liam.

Louis stifles a giggle, giving Harry’s hip a gentle yet reassuring squeeze before turning and getting pulled into a massive hug.

Harry watches the two of them embrace, feeling his nerves slowly slip away. Sure, his memories of Liam from secondary are less than stellar, but anyone who loves Louis that much, and who’s clearly stuck by him through everything since, can’t be all bad.

Liam whispers something in Louis’ ear, causing him to flush adorably before setting his sights on Harry.

“You know, if Louis hadn’t told me who you were I don’t think I ever would have recognized you.”

Harry’s not actually sure how to respond to that, so he just kind of fish mouths awkwardly. Louis rolls his eyes, elbowing Liam in the side.

“And by that I mean, of course, that it’s lovely to see you again Harry and I completely understand how you’ve got Louis all but wrapped around your finger.”

The smile on Liam’s face is clearly genuine, and if Louis’ indignant ‘Oi!’ is anything to go by, his words are too.

Harry grins and reaches his hand out. Liam shakes his head and grins, saying “none of that,” before pulling Harry into what can only be described as a bro hug instead.

They don’t actually attempt to find their table until a grumpy old couple standing behind them coughs rather loudly (and rudely), and, as luck would have it, they’ve got a charming table in the corner by the window.

“So Harry, what are your intentions with Tommo here.” Liam asks the moment the waiter leaves with their drink orders, his voice deceptively casual.

Harry nearly spits out the water he’s just taken a sip of.

“Erm, I, I mean …” Harry blabbers on, unsure of how to even begin addressing the question before both Liam and Louis burst out into laughter.

Louis very quickly stops when he sees the pout Harry’s doing his best to hide, giving Liam a look.

“I’m sorry, babe, he’s just getting me back for all of the girlfriends of his I used to interrogate back in school.”

Harry shrugs, taking another sip of his water and waiting for a new conversation topic. He knows he’s being a bit babyish, but he’s also weirdly sensitive about anything having to do with their old lives and the connection they shared before. Liam fits squarely in both categories.

Louis takes Harry’s hand in his below the table, squeezing his fingers and holding on even after.

Harry can’t help the fond smile that grows on his face. He sees Liam staring at the two of them with a soft look out of the corner of his eye.

“Li, why don’t you tell Hazza what you’ve been up to these past few years?” Louis asks, getting the conversation flowing again.

Liam grins and launches into a story about how he’s training to be a firefighter and how much he loves his new flat and finally moving into a bigger city.

Even though Harry knows Louis’ heard it a million times, he still stays as completely engaged in the conversation as Harry.

By the time the server appears with their food, Harry and Liam are both teasing Louis and just generally getting along swimmingly. They part an hour later with full bellies and a promise to hang out again as soon as possible.

“You’re good for him, I think,” Liam says when Louis’ run off to use the loo, leaving the two of them momentarily alone.

“Thanks,” Harry says, face pink. “He’s good for me too.”

Liam smiles at that, and his whole face is nothing short of adorable, really.

“I’m glad you two were able to work things out.” Harry bites his lip and nods, spared from having to respond by Louis returning a moment later, grumbling about how his hands are still wet because the ‘ _bloody toilets didn’t have any paper towels.’_

Even despite the toilet mishap, Harry thinks it’s been a very good night indeed. If the kiss Louis gives Harry the moment they’re back at his flat is any indication, Louis seems to agree.

 

***

 

Harry’s not exactly sure why he’s so nervous to ask Louis to come home with home over winter hols to meet his family, but the undeniable swooping feeling in his stomach every time he’s about to bring it up is definitely there.

He’s got no real reason for his anxiety; Harry’s parents may not know the whole angst-ridden story, but they’ve been given the general gist of his reunion with Louis and the circumstances surrounding their relationship. Hell, technically Louis’ already met everyone but Robin. In fact, the one good thing to come from Gemma’s surprise visit all those weeks ago was her rekindled friendship with Louis.

The two of them had met up for coffee at the end of November and gotten a chance to catch up outside of their relationships with Harry (seeing as they had been friends first). Now whenever Gemma calls or skypes she always demands to speak with Louis too if he’s around (and really, when is he not?).

So yeah, Harry knows logically that he has nothing much to worry about it, but it’s kind of like the Liam situation all over again - trying to reconnect two very different parts of his life that he’s kept separate for so long.

Now they’re sitting on Harry’s bed, ostensibly watching old episodes of _Secret Diary of a Call Girl_ when Louis presses pauses and turns to his boyfriend with a serious look.

“Is everything okay with you, Haz? You seem a bit distracted.” Louis has obviously picked up on Harry’s odd mood, and rather than immediately denying that there’s anything wrong, Harry gives him a tiny guilty smile.

“I’ve just worked myself up into a bit of a panic for no reason, basically,” Harry admits.

Louis frowns, eyes filled with concern. “Panic about what? Not finals, right, because we both know you’ll ace those without a problem.”

Harry can’t help but smile at Louis’ confidence in him. “No, not school related for once. I, er, I actually wanted to ask you something.”

Louis’ eyes widen but he nods easily enough. “Yeah, anything Haz.”

“Do you, um … would you want to come visit my family with me over winter hols? Like, obviously not on your birthday or Christmas but maybe just before?”

Harry is perfectly prepared to keep rambling but Louis shuts him up with a sloppy kiss.

“Of course I would, you knob!” Louis pauses, his own cheeks tinted pink. “I actually wanted to see if you’d like to stay with me for a bit over New Years, so I’m glad we’re on the same page with the whole ‘meeting the family’ thing.”

Harry beams, wrapping Louis up into a massive hug and burying his nose in his hair.

“Love you,” he mumbles into Louis’ neck. Louis laughs and pulls lightly at Harry’s curls to get him to meet his eyes.

“Love you, too. Even if you can be a little dense sometimes.” The fond look in his eyes erases any of the bite in his words, and Harry very pointedly rolls his eyes before flopping across Louis’ lap.

“Good, now that that’s settled,” Harry reaches out like a spastic jellyfish, trying to hit the spacebar on his laptop so the episode will start playing again. Louis giggles and does it for him instead.

Harry does his best not to hopelessly endeared.

 

***

 

“Shit, I was totally fine up until now,” Louis’ hand is clamped like a vice around Harry’s, his palm noticeably sweaty despite the cold air swirling around them.

They’re quite literally standing on the driveway at Harry’s house and Louis’ suddenly, it seems, become a victim to his nerves.

Harry laughs, giving Louis’ hand a squeeze and kissing him on top of beanie-clad head. “I promise you, it’ll be fine. They’ll love you.”

Louis looks at Harry with wide eyes. “But what if they think I’m horrible. What if your mum remembers some bratty thing I did to Gems when I was fifteen and holds it against me?”

Harry can’t help but snort in amusement at that, doing his best to get rid of the sad little frown line forming between Louis’ eyebrows.

“Babe, it’ll be fine. Gemma loves you, so that’s 1 out of the 3 won over already. My mum and Robin are going to be so charmed by you they won’t know what to do with themselves.”

Louis sighs, but it’s a little less panicked than it would have been a moment ago.

“Okay,” he says, his voice firm and steady like he’s heading into battle. He starts walking towards the house but Harry’s not quite done comforting him yet.

“Oi, Boo Bear.” Louis turns around, confused by Harry’s arbitrary use of the nickname when Harry pulls him into his arms and gives him a deeply over-the-top romantic kiss that he’s sure the both of them will be thinking about long after they go inside.

Louis pulls away slowly, looking dazed. “Not fair. Now I’ll just be in a fog of lust the whole night.”

Harry winks. “Good.”

 

***

 

Anne ends up being so ridiculously fond of Louis that by the end of their first day in Holmes Chapel, Harry’s convinced she won’t actually let either of them leave.

Like, ever.

“Oh boys, I’m so glad you came.” She turns to Louis with a warm grin that can really only be described as _motherly_. “You especially.” Harry makes a noise of mock offense while Louis laughs at him.

“I’m just saying, I’ve heard so much about Louis and I could hear it in your voice how much he means to you, H.”

And well, yeah, that does sound a little bit better.

Robin and Louis end up having a surprising amount of things to talk about (outside of football, even, which is a delightful discovery) and when Gemma finally barges in just before dinner, she basically attacks Louis and Harry with a group hug as Anne laughs at them from her place on the couch.

Dinner is lovely, but Harry finds his favourite part of the evening is actually when the five of them are gathered around the living room, Louis cuddled into Harry’s side and emphatically discussing how quickly _Homeland_ had gone to shit with Gemma while Anne and Robin watch with matching smiles.

That night, with Louis snuggled against Harry’s back (Harry likes to be the little spoon, what can he say?), he feels like his heart is fit to burst. Everything had gone better than he could have possibly imagined, and it still feels surreal, somehow, that the boy he’d humiliated himself in front of as an awkward fourteen year old was now spooning with him in his childhood bed.

Harry knows there are still a lot of scary things waiting for them in the future; Louis still has yet to find out whether or not his audition made the cut, for one thing, and Harry’s been toying with the idea of minoring in music lately (all of Louis’ talk about following his dreams has had the incidental side effect of pushing Harry to re-examine his own passions).

But those are concerns for another time. Right now he’s got his favourite boy in the world in his arms and the promise of spending nearly all of the winter holidays together with their families.

Regardless, Harry’s a firm believer in things happening if they’re meant to. You can’t rush fate, after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all very much a lot, and if you take anything away from this fic, I hope it's that you always make sure you're actually home alone before doing something potentially humiliating.
> 
> ... Oh yeah, and remember to communicate and be honest even when the mere thought makes you want to throw yourself out of a window.
> 
> I'd hug each and every single one of you who read and kudos'd and commented if I could <3


	11. Two Years Later (AKA the Post-Epilogue Epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2 years later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got an [anon](http://adifferentkindofson.tumblr.com/post/157005053816/i-reread-tell-me-a-lie-today-because-im-obsessed) asking what happened to Louis and Harry after the end of the original story and I realized that there were a number of loose ends that it might be fun to tie up. 
> 
> This is a quick peek into how Louis and Harry are doing almost exactly two years after the fic originally wrapped up. It's very high on fluff and low on angst (which is like the opposite of what I usually write but these two deserve all the happiness in the world damnit!)
> 
> Quick note that I finished this fic two years ago and can't remember all the details so there's a chance I've misremembered details/botched some continuity. If that's the case please feel free to comment and let me know so I can tweak things. Also gigantic shout out to Liz aka [thedarkestlarrie](http://thedarkestlarrie.tumblr.com) who I absolutely adore and who is the best beta I could ever ask for <3
> 
> Also my former brit picker is no longer in the fandom so please bear with my Canadian self (and again, feel free to make suggestions if something reads as too North American).
> 
> Thank you so much to the anon who sent me this question in the first place. I hope this brings a smile to your face <3

"Again Lou? Seriously?" Harry groans as Louis hits the rewind button _for the third time_ that episode.

"He's so young and hasn't had any professional training and he's just  _ so good, H!"  _

Louis leans forward, eyes glued to the screen, as he presses play and watches Isak bump into Even in the cafeteria for the fourth time.

"I just want to watch the bloody episode in one go. And in English."

Because yeah, to make it even more difficult for Harry to actually follow along with the plot, Louis has turned the subtitles off because, "I don't want to be distracted by the language barrier, Haz. I just want to focus on the performances."

So now Harry is stuck watching the same 5 minutes of the same episode of Skam over and over again in Norwegian  _ without _  English captions. And all the while, Louis can't stop marvelling over how brilliant the cast is.

As much as he complains, Harry secretly loves it. Plus he and Louis have started taking Norwegian Duolingo lessons together.

It's not until Louis lunges for the remote controller for the fourth time that Harry decides enough is enough.

"Louis, I love you and your creative actor brain to bits, but if you pause this episode one more time I'm going to go sit in our room and watch it by myself." He pauses ominously. "And with subtitles."

Louis clearly gets the message because he slowly releases his grip on the remote and settles back into cuddling next to Harry on the couch.

They watch in comfortable silence as Isak and Jonas finally talk about why Isak's been so distant lately.

"I'm glad we never had to go through anything like that," Louis says softly.

Now Harry pauses the episode. 

"You walked in on me wanking when I was 14 and I lied about my identity for a huge chunk of our early relationship." Harry says in disbelief.

"Yeah but that's the kind of funny story we can tell our grandkids later. Well, minus the wanking."

Harry's stomach does something funny at the mention of grandkids. He and Louis had talked about the idea of having kids before, of course, but it's always been this vague thing that neither of them was ready to seriously consider. This was the first time Louis had casually thrown in a mention of them being together long enough to spawn not one but  _ two _ future generations.

"Who do you think is more like Jonas - Niall, Liam, or Zayn?"

Before Harry has a chance to answer, his phone starts ringing. Harry doesn't recognize the number and exchanges a confused glance with Louis who just shrugs and gestures for him to pick it up.

"Hello?"

"Is this Harry Styles?"

The voice on the other end of the line is gruff and Harry can hear the strumming of a bass guitar in the background.

"Um yeah it is. Can I help you?"

“This is Pat from The Rusted Pint.”

Harry sits up straighter. He’s only been to the Rusted Pint once and it was to inquire if they let musicians play gigs there. He’d been shot down (kindly) when the bartender had told him they have a regular roster of musicians and no room for a new one. Except maybe -

“One of the blokes who usually plays on Fridays broke his arm. We’ve got an open slot and thought you might be interested in filling it.”

Harry’s face must be making a rather spectacular expression if Louis’ reaction is anything to go by.

“Yeah, ‘course. What time should I be there?”

The line crackles a bit as Pat shifts the phone to the other ear. “Round 8 to set up? The set starts at 9 and you get half an hour to play whatever you want so long as it’s not offensive. Or Oasis. Please for the love of God no Oasis.”

Harry laughs. “Duly noted. See you Friday.”

Louis is on him the second he’s hung up the phone, practically hanging off his lap.

“That sounded like a good call. That was good, right?”

Harry leans forward and gives Louis a quick kiss. 

“I just booked a gig for an Open Mic night on Friday. Over at the Rusted Pint.”

Louis’ forehead pulls together as he scans his memory, the name clearly sounding familiar. Then -

“Holy shit, H, that’s huge! Isn’t that where Portishead got their start?”

“Nah, think that was another place but still. It’s a big venue. Lots of people.  And I get an entire half hour to myself.”

Louis looks absolutely delighted. He whips out his phone and is immediately off texting everyone he knows to make sure they’re available to come to the gig.

“This is going to be so amazing, love. I can’t wait for you to blow them away and get your big break!”

Harry pulls Louis in for a sideways hug. “It’s not about that. I just love having the opportunity to play and to do something I’m passionate about. Work is … work. And I don’t hate it but it’s not what I want to spend the rest of my life doing.” Harry pauses. “Also, don’t you have a job on Friday?”

Louis’ face goes white and he nearly drops his phone. “Fuck. I think I do.”

He frantically opens the calendar app and scrolls to the end of the week. “Call time 10am, Wrap time 8pm.”

While theatre is still his passion and his number one priority, Louis has been booking a steady stream of one-off TV drama roles over the past few months. It means long hours but it’s a great source of supplemental income in between theatre gigs (which they absolutely need if they expect to keep living in London.)

“I can cancel it - ”

Harry puts his foot down. Metaphorically of course. There’s no way he’s getting up from the comfort of the couch just to make a dramatic point.

“Lou, No. You’re going to work and then you’ll come to the gig straight after. Just cause set up starts at 8 doesn’t mean my actual slot does. It’ll probably be closer to 8:30. If they’re even running on time that is you know how these places are -”

Louis kisses him to shut him up. “Point made, love. But I promise you, I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss my baby’s first solo gig, not for anything.”

And that’s the thing, a half hour gig at a pub might not seem like much to most people, but it’s the first time Harry is doing something like this entirely on his own. He had ended up making the decision to switch from law to the equally practical ‘Business Studies’ major because he’d known even two years ago that having a solid background in business would be helpful no matter where his future took him. 

His dream is still music and now at least he has a solid (if boring) day job to help keep him fed and clothed while he works on his music the rest of the time. No way he could have managed that if he’d gone on to law school (and then, God forbid, actually become a practicing lawyer).

So yeah, Harry is nervous but he also knows he’s doing the right thing. He and Louis have been together for two years already (Harry can hardly believe it) and while they’d had their ups (moving in together a year prior) and downs (Louis not getting the part he’d auditioned for back when they’d first started dating), nothing has ever felt more right for either of them than being together. 

And besides, the downs had always been replaced by ups fairly quickly (like when the casting agent for the unsuccessful audition contacted Louis about another [bigger] stage production she thought he’d be perfect for).

Harry leans back against the couch and pulls Louis tighter to him. 

“Okay,” he finally says with a long winded sigh.

Louis gives him a curious look. “Okay what?”

“Okay you can put Skam back on so long as you  _ promise _  to limit it to one rewind per episode.”

Louis fist pumps like the 5 year old he is and immediately hits play on the remote. The soothing sounds of rapid fire Norwegian fill their living room and Harry is positive there’s no place in the world he’d rather be.

 

***

 

Harry’s so used to the blonde that he almost misses Niall’s shock of dark brown hair when he walks into their usual coffee shop.

Harry isn’t quite sure what to make of it but Niall seems happy which is really all that matters. Also he looks even more like Branson from Downton Abbey than usual which is always a big plus in Harry’s book.

“Mate, you would not believe the shit I saw on my walk over here.” Niall starts chattering away before Harry’s even had a chance to sit down and take off his jacket.

“Was it that bloke juggling oranges on the corner?” Harry asks as he plops down in an overstuffed armchair across from Niall.

Niall’s eyes widen. “No, but I wish I'd seen that! You know how much I love juggling.”

A waitress walks over before Niall can say anything else. “What can I get for you?”

Niall turns an adorable shade of red when he makes eye contact with her. “Um, I'll have a coffee. With sugar. Coffee with sugar.”

The waitress looks like she’s trying not to laugh.  She turns to Harry. “So that’ll be one coffee with sugar and ...?”

“Green tea please.”

The waitress nods and walks off. Niall’s face is flaming.

“What kind of awkward attempted mating ritual did I just witness?” Harry asks, stifling his giggles.

Niall rubs his hands down his face. “Mate, it has been too long since I’ve hooked up with someone. I’m desperate.”

Harry purses his lips. “And I guess calling Zayn is out of the question.”

Niall holds his hands up abruptly. “Totally out of the question. I’ve had enough moments of weakness where he’s concerned. I’m going cold turkey.”

Niall and Zayn’s relationship had been a short but torrid affair. They still considered each other good friends but had mutually decided that, despite the attraction they felt for each other, they were not cut out for any kind of romantic relationship.

That didn’t stop them from hooking up whenever one of them was a) lonely, b) drunk, or c) a combination of the two.

The waitress is back with their drinks before Harry can say anything else. She places Niall’s coffee in front of him with smirk.

“Just let me know if that coffee with sugar needs more sugar, okay?”

She deposits Harry’s tea in front of him with polite smile and walks away.

Niall facepalms. “She’s so hot, H.”

Harry reaches over to give Niall’s shoulder a sympathetic pat.

“We’ll find you someone soon, Ni.”

Niall grumbles. 

 

***

 

Harry stands on the stage at the Rusted Pint and tries to keep his heart from jumping into his throat as he surveys the crowd. 

There are  _ A Lot _  of people. Like,  _ way more _  than he’d been expecting. Sure, most of them are likely there to see the other acts but still. They’re part of his audience too. And damn, does he want to impress them.

He walks up to the microphone, his guitar slung loosely over his shoulder. He scans the crowd again, looking for a familiar pair of blue eyes and messy tousled brown hair.

He doesn’t see Louis (though to be fair, he can’t really see much of anything) but that’s to be expected. He’s been with Louis long enough to know that a TV or film shoot that’s supposed to end at _X_ time never actually ends at that time. Harry sends up a prayer that Louis gets there in time to at least see part of his set, takes a deep breath, and starts strumming.  

It takes a couple of seconds for the crowd to settle down enough to hear him, and Harry relishes the moment when he can feel everyone’s eyes on him.

“Hi. My name is Harry Styles and I’m going to try my best to entertain you for the next little bit.” he says, his voice sounding far more sure of itself than Harry actually feels on the inside.

He lets the music build a bit, enjoying the rapt attention of the audience, and then, finally, he starts singing.

Of course, it’s at that moment that Louis (and Liam) burst through the doors into the pub.

Harry’s eyes lock with Louis and he can feel the grin that lights up his face without his permission. Louis grins right back at him from across the room, the kind of crinkly eyed smile that only makes an appearance every once in awhile but that knocks the wind out of Harry’s sails every single time he sees it.

Louis gives him a thumbs up and Harry’s pretty sure every single person in attendance can hear the smile in his voice when Harry sings the next line

 

***

 

Harry can hardly believe how quickly his set goes by but it feels like the blink of an eye when someone from the bar is gesturing for him to start wrapping up.

Harry finishes the last verse in the final song of his set and slowly lowers his guitar. He’s hit by a wave of sound from the audience in response. He’s glad his guitar is strapped over his shoulder or else he absolutely would have dropped it in shock.

His eyes automatically search out Louis’ and he finds him standing on the seat of the booth he and Liam had eventually managed to snag in the corner aggressively cheering. Louis stops applauding just long enough to make a Taylor Swift heart at him with his fingers and Harry snorts out a laugh, realizing a moment too late that everyone is still staring at him.

He does a quick bow, mumbles an awkward (but sincere) thank you into the microphone, and steps off of the stage.

Someone who works at the pub meets him at the bottom of the stage and clears a path for.

“Well done, Lad! Drinks on us!” Harry turns back around, trying to find Louis again so he can gesture for him to come along but he’s already lost in the crowd.

“What’ll you have?” the bartender asks when they reach the taps and Harry focuses his attention back on the scene in front of him.

“Um … you know what? I’ll take a long island iced tea.”

The bartender snorts but obliges. Harry grins, the adrenaline from what he’s just done making his heart pound in his chest.

He feels a hand on his arm and turns around to see a woman with dark hair, wide brown eyes, and a grin on her face.

“Hi Harry, I’m Amelia.”

Harry blinks at her, wondering what the politest way to say  _ I’m flattered but I have a boyfriend and also I am very gay _  is when she starts laughing.

“Oh my God, you probably think I’m hitting on you.”

Harry’s not quite sure what to do now. Luckily for him, Amelia keeps talking.

“I’m a talent agent. I loved your set and think you have a lot of potential. I was hoping we could set up a time to talk sometime this week.” She holds a business card out to him.

Harry’s jaw drops as he takes it and tucks it in his pocket. He feels a much more familiar hand on his other arm a moment later and he smiles.

Amelia’s eyes light up when they land on Louis standing next to him.

“And you must be Louis,” She says, extending her hand for him to shake. Louis looks confused but accepts.

“I was talking to Niall while Harry was setting up earlier. He had nothing but lovely things to say about the both of you,” she explains. Harry bites his tongue. He’s going to have some words with Niall later but it seems like his dry spell has finally ended.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Amelia.” Harry finally says. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow?”

Amelia grins. “Sounds good.” She looks from Harry to Louis and back again. “You did a wonderful job, Harry. You should be very proud of yourself.” 

She smirks as she walks away and Harry can’t help but notice her wave at Niall on the way out. Niall, for his part, manages to keep the blushing to a minimum as he waves back. Harry has questions. Many of them.

But for right now, he’s content to let Louis pull him into a bear hug right there next to the bar.

“H you were AMAZING. I knew you were talented but now this entire pub knows too and i’m so fucking proud of you.”

Harry feels like the human embodiment of the heart eyes emoji. Harry wants to tell him how much he loves him, how much his support means, how terrified he was at the thought of doing this by himself.

“I’m so glad you made it on time,” is what comes out instead.

Louis puts both of his hands on Harry’s face, locking eyes with him. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, H.”

And the best part is, Harry knows it’s true. He leans forward and pulls Louis into a kiss, ignoring the fact that they’re in a crowded pub and that he’s pretty sure the man next to him just spilled beer all over Harry’s shoes.

He loves Louis. And Louis loves him. And that’s really all that matters.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've missed writing fic and it was a pleasure to dive into this world again. Thank you all for being so lovely and I hope this comes as a pleasant surprise for the handful of people still subscribed to this work who didn't know it was going to be updated lmao.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm hoping to update once a week (probably around Sunday or Monday) but I also know that the next few weeks are going to be absolutely crazy so it might stretch to two weeks. I'll do my best!


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